


The Art Of Stealing Hearts

by EllanaSan



Series: Katniss, The Vampire Slayer [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, F/M, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Sex Demon, Slow Burn, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, but really it's linked to sex demons, no knowledge of buffy necessary!, nothing graphic on that front, some gore I guess, some hint of dub-con, vampire slayer!katniss, watcher!haymitch, well hearts are missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-25 10:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “Ah good! You’re here!” Peeta exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Have you heard about Woof?”Haymitch rolled his eyes. “What has he lost now?”“His clothes.” Peeta deadpanned, looking at Katniss and Haymitch in turn.“Good for him.” Haymitch snorted. “That makes one of us.”“And hisheart.” Peeta added with a cringe.Haymitch made a face. “Tell me this is a figure of speech.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here I come with episode 2! I'm not sure how much sense it will make if you don't read the first one in the series first! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new episode! Let me know your thoughts!

 

Haymitch hated teaching.

It wasn’t the first time the Council forged degrees and recommendations for him to be hired at a school as a History teacher and, mostly, he could do the job alright. History went surprisingly hand in hand with the study of demonology and it wasn’t like the standards at Seam High were really demanding to begin with. But, _oh_ , how he hated having to deal with hormonal teenagers all day long… Sure, it allowed him to keep an eye on Katniss and to be close at hands if his Slayer needed him. But it was also _a pain_.

The thing he _really_ hated about teaching though? Even more than the teenagers and the endless drama? The _paperwork_ that schools required from time to time.

He liked Plutarch Heavensbee well enough. He was a nice guy if a little smug for someone who had ended up at the head of a school with the highest rate of suspicious disappearances in the country… He didn’t like, however, how obsessed the man was with written reports, forms and memos. Everything that happened in his teachers’ classrooms, Plutarch had to know about. You wanted to send a kid to detention? You had to fill two forms detailing the incident that had led to the punishment as well as the reasons you felt it necessary to assign detention. It was _such_ a pain that most of the teachers had renounced giving out detentions at all.

Except, Marvel Quaid had gone and tossed a water balloon at Glimmer Rambin in the middle of third period the other day – because she had been wearing a ridiculously short white dress and boys that age were _obsessed_ with girls and, to add insult to injury, the water balloon in question had turned out to be a _condom_ – and he had had no other choice _but_ to give out detention. And a lecture.

 _Fuck_ , but he _hated_ his job.  

Plutarch had been on his case about him not having filled the proper paperwork for days at this point and it was starting to become more irritating to have to listen to the Principal’s gentle chiding than it would have been to fill out the form.

So he had filled the form.

He grumbled under his breath about stupid boys full of hormones and zero brain cells all the way to the Principal’s office and glared at all the kids who dared stumble into his path. More than one shouted a greeting. For whatever reason, through no fault of his own, most of his students seemed to like him. Maybe because he had a policy that he didn’t really care what they were up to in his classroom as long as they didn’t bother him – it didn’t matter at all to him if they were listening to him rattling out random dates and facts, most days he selected a documentary on the computer and let the machine do the job for him.

The secretary’s office – the antechamber to _Plutarch’s_ office because the man liked to pretend he was a Secretary of State and not a school Principal – was just as busy as usual and the new assistant – a fancy title that was probably more fashionable than plain old _secretary_ – didn’t seem to know what to prioritize.

Haymitch settled for leaning against the wall next to the Biology teacher and wait his turn. He answered Felindra Tigris’s greeting with a smile and a polite nod. She was pretty in an odd sort of way, with red hair that made him think of a lion’s mane and eyes you couldn’t help but stare back at. She was a flirt too and Haymitch tended to flirt back simply because it had been _a long time_ since he had gotten laid and he was starting to feel the urge to scratch that particular itch.

They exchanged recent stories about students while they waited for the secretary to finish tearing whoever she was talking to on the phone to shreds. Haymitch had forgotten her name. She had only been there for a little over a week, the previous _assistant_ had become vampire snacks and she had just been replaced. There was a lot of turnover on the staff front. But, then again, it was the Seam. Teachers had already had a limited lifespan when _he_ had been in school. The proximity of the Hellmouth wasn’t helping.

Whatever her name was, she was attractive. She had curves but he had never minded that and he was certainly enjoying the low cut shirt she was wearing. The silver flowers tattooed on her left cheek were a little shocking at first but he had seen worse fashion statements in his time.

 _Hell_ , there had been that time in his youth when _mullets_ had been in fashion and he had fancied himself a rebel…

 “Is Plutarch in?” he asked hopefully the moment she placed the phone back on its cradle. “I’ve got those detention forms for him…”

“Principal Heavensbee is with the new Art teacher. Leave them with me.” the woman sighed, her lips pursed. She almost _glared_ at the slightly crumpled sheets of paper he placed on the corner of her desk. “I have never seen so much paperwork _anywhere_ else I worked at. I will end up _buried_ under papers.”

“Send an sos and I’ll come rescue you.” he half-joked, half-offered. Yeah, he really was feeling that itch. “Sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Fulvia.” she answered with a bright smile. “Fulvia Cardew…” She glanced at the paper. “Mr Abernathy.”

“Haymitch.” He grinned.

“And what do you teach, Haymitch?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Given that she was sitting at her desk and he was standing up, it gave him a very nice view down her…

“History.” Felindra cut in, sounding both amused and a little vexed. Next thing he knew, the Biology teacher was standing right next to him and was running her hand down his arm. He lost all interest in Fulvia because, really, when push came to shove, Felindra Tigris just had _that_ little something that made him… “If you are finished, Haymitch… I hate to chase you but I _do_ have some request forms to fill for more lab rats and you know Plutarch always wants those in triplicate…”

“ _Triplicate_!” Fulvia gasped.

Haymitch wisely decided to retreat before he could be swept into the paperwork of hell. He buried his hands in his pockets as he briskly walked back to his classroom, his mind busy contemplating the prospects of taking some remedial Biology lessons… There was a new spring to his steps and he was whistling a little, he nodded back to the students who greeted him, feeling in a much better mood than ten minutes earlier. Being free of paperwork was good.

“Are you drunk?” Katniss mocked with a lifted eyebrow when they crossed paths as she was headed to her Math class. Old Woof was impatiently waving the latecomers into his classroom, snatching baseball caps off heads as they went, and Haymitch was suddenly very happy to have a period off. Another hour he didn’t have to deal with idiots was a good hour.

“If only.” he snorted, shoving her toward the classroom. She tossed him a glare but he knew he hadn’t hurt her, for one: superstrength; for another: nobody could have guessed she had half-burned to death a mere two weeks earlier. “Go get an education.”

He had work of his own to do.

He left the door of his classroom open behind him simply because it would spare him the effort of having to stand up and open it for his next class, and settled behind his desk. Then he pulled out the now crumpled sketch of Cashmere’s face they didn’t need anymore – because when a woman tried to kill you, you tended _not_ to forget her face so easily – and a couple of Watcher journals. There were thousands of them and so far he hadn’t been very lucky. He hadn’t found a mention of Cashmere or who the ‘others’ who were supposed to follow her into town could be and he hadn’t, either, figured out how they were planning on freeing the worst vampire Haymitch had ever had the displeasure to meet from his hell prison.

He skimmed through the life of a Slayer who had lived in the beginning of the sixties, growing a little frustrated by the long and not so fruitful search. He had been on it for two weeks already and he was starting to wonder if focusing on the Slayers from the last century was a good idea after all. It had seemed like a logical choice. If she had been older than one hundred years old, chances were he would have heard of Cashmere before… Vampires who lived that long tended to get famous for slaughter or attempts at triggering an apocalypse or two. There were exceptions though of course…

He was contemplating fishing his flask out of his desk for a small gulp when there was a quick joyful knock on the doorframe of his classroom. And _then_ he remembered why he liked to keep his door shut.

He looked up and winced not too welcomingly at Plutarch. But then his eyes glided behind the principal and to _her_ and the gibe he had been about to blurt out remained stuck in his throat. The woman was beautiful in a way nobody had any business being beautiful.

She was tall – although that might have to do with the towering heels she was perched on – she was wearing a dove grey high-waist pencil skirt that only showed off the shape and length of her legs, her white blouse had some pink frills that might have looked more ridiculous if she hadn’t possessed a regal bearing… His eyes lingered on the legs and stopped on her breasts – not much there but just enough to be appealing – traveled up her slender neck and to her face where an amused smile stretched her red-painted lips. Confidence was written on every of her slightly aristocratic features and he decided she was one of those women who _knew_ the effect they had on other people and had no qualm playing with it.  Her blond hair looked curly but it was tamed in a professional if a little fancy bun and her eyes, when he finally met them, were so _very_ blue he faltered for a second.

She was beautiful, there was no other term for it. So beautiful, she chased any idea of _Remedial Biology_ right out of his head.

What had Fulvia said? That Plutarch was with a new teacher? He couldn’t remember what the stranger was supposed to teach but he was pretty sure he was going to develop a sudden interest for the subject.

“Morning, Haymitch.” Plutarch greeted with his usual exuberance. A positive attitude was apparently important when you were trying to run a school. “I’m sorry to disturb you but I was wondering about those forms…”

“Just dropped them off on your secretary’s desk.” he grumbled, not even fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“ _Assistant_.” he corrected, stepping into the classroom, the woman right behind him. “Very good. Very good. Oh, where are my manners!”  He gestured at the woman who stepped forward with a bright smile that made his stomach _clench_. “Meet Miss Trinket, our new Art teacher. I was just giving her the tour. Effie, this is Haymitch Abernathy, our History teacher.”

“Nice to meet you.” she politely offered. He shook the hand she outstretched but didn’t release it at once. There was something about the way she talked, the rhythm… She wasn’t from around there, that was for sure. Her amusement seemed to increase for some reason. “May I have my hand back?”

He let go of her hand without hurrying, tilting his head to the side to study her better. “British?”

Hastily concealed surprise flashed on her face. She looked a little put out. “Most people are not able to tell.”

And, suddenly, he lost _all_ interest. Suspicion was rising its ugly head and her looks weren’t enough to make him ignore it. Coincidences _were_ possible, of course. But a British woman getting hired at a school in the backend of the country when the Council was so reluctant to take his calls lately? Not likely.

Besides, she looked like a poster child for a Watcher. Wealthy, full of herself and entitled. He was ready to bet she came from a _long_ line of Watchers too, that was kind of a family business after all, handed down from fathers to sons – or in some cases, although it _was_ rare, daughters. He was the exception to the rule, brought into the job by fate, life and the woman who had raised him to become one.

“Really?” he snorted. “With that posh accent, seems obvious to me.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, any trace of amusement gone. “Perhaps my accent is posh but _you_ are lacking in the manners department.”

“So sorry, your highness…” he mocked. “You want me to bow?”

“Miss Trinket comes straight from London, Haymitch.” Plutarch cut in with a diplomatic tone but a chiding look for him. “Her references are _impressive_. We were _lucky_ to find her.”

“I’m sure…” he sneered. “And what brings such a catch to our little town? Let me guess… You’ve got a taste for the wildlife… We _do_ have a nice collection of _strange animals_ in the Seam.”

She didn’t so much as blink, her face remained neutral. At least, she had a good poker face. That, or he was entirely wrong and she wasn’t _at all_ there to spy on him.

But they had sent Finnick last time and he knew Coin only trusted him as far as she could toss him. A part of him had been waiting for the Council to make a move ever since he had called in to report _suspicious activities_ around the Hellmouth.

“My family lives in the States and I have been away from them too long.” she replied. If it was a lie, he couldn’t detect it.

“And _where_ do they live exactly?” he insisted.

“Los Angeles.” she answered with obvious reluctance. Probably because she had no business settling down in a town in rural Virginia if her parents were on the opposite coast. And she knew she was caught.

He smirked in triumph. “Either you’re not very good at geography or you got lost.”

“I happen to like the country.” she huffed with a small glare before turning to the Principal with a miffed expression on her face. “I _do_ apologize, Principal Heavensbee, I thought _you_ were the one conducting job interviews in this school. It was also my understanding that I was _already_ hired.”

Plutarch laughed a fake laugh as if her joke was hilarious.

It _wasn’t_.

“Isn’t she _charming_?”  he asked Haymitch in a warning tone. “I am sure you two will be _the best_ of friends in no time at all. You have so much in common. Haymitch is a new addition to our school too…”

“The rate you’re losing your staff, I’m one of the oldest by now.” Haymitch commented, still studying her in a way that was neither polite nor as disinterested as he wanted it to be.

“And he did a lot of traveling, not unlike you. Didn’t you, Haymitch?” Plutarch insisted, ignoring his intervention. “Effie was just telling me she has been pretty much everywhere around the globe. Haymitch was quite the globetrotter himself before he settled down here.”

“ _Were_ you, now?” the woman hummed with utter lack of interest. Then, her gaze fell on Cashmere’s portrait and Haymitch quickly thrust it between the pages of his book and snapped that shut. Her eyes lingered on the leather bound journal. “You should be careful with those old books. They look precious.”

“Don’t you worry about these books.” He scowled. “They’re in the right hands.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “I _doubt_ books that look _that_ ancient have _any_ business laying _unattended_ in a _high school_ classroom. They should be in a library handled with _care._ And special gloves. But I am sure you know better than I do, of course.”

She wasn’t wrong there but he certainly _wasn’t_ going to admit it. If his mother’s Watcher could see what he was doing with those journals, she would have his hide.

“You’re a book expert on top of being an Art teacher?” he challenged. Was she even _trying_ to keep her cover?

“You will find I am an expert in _many_ things, Mr Abernathy.” she retorted with a grin that, while being perfectly innocent, somehow managed to convey that the meaning behind her words was _not_.

He felt himself smirk. Not entirely on purpose. And he didn’t avert his eyes because he wouldn’t look away _first_. If she wanted to make this difficult, he would be happy to oblige.

Plutarch muffled a cough into his fist.

She let her gaze linger a second longer before turning toward the Principal, just long enough to let him know he hadn’t won anything but that the match had to be postponed for now. “Perhaps we could continue our tour? I am _fairly_ sure I do not need to be so well acquainted with Mr Abernathy’s classroom.”

“Of course, of course.” Plutarch approved, gesturing at her to precede him outside. He stopped halfway to the door though and turned back to Haymitch, prompting the woman to do the same. “While I’ve got you here and before I forget… Gale Hawthorne has been camping in my office again… Is there _absolutely_ no way you could convince Miss Everdeen to get back on the archery team?”

Haymitch really didn’t want to discuss his Slayer in front of a potential Council spy. 

“I’ve told you before, she’s focusing on other things right now.” he dismissed.

“Her family situation _isn’t_ ideal, of course.” Plutarch sighed. “I suppose as long as she stays out of trouble… It is just… Gale claims she is working for you after school?”

He frowned. “So what?”

He was acutely aware that Trinket was studying her manicure while pretending not to listen in the very attitude of someone who was obviously eavesdropping.

“Well, he made it sound… He seems to be worried you are… Somehow… _Abusing_ your position.” Plutarch awkwardly winced. “I set him straight, of course. But maybe…”

“I ain’t gonna kick the girl out just ‘cause a kid can’t handle rejection.” he warned before the man could even finish that thought. “I ain’t just her teacher or some stranger to her, I’m a _family friend_. I came back here to take care of her, I _explained_ that to you. And even if that wasn’t a thing.. She’s just _a  kid_. You _really_ think I would…”

“No. I do _not_.” Plutarch cut him off firmly. “Like I said, I set him straight. I know you have been helping them out and, to be honest, it’s good to see Katniss not looking like she just escaped some prison camp… She’s obviously fed, she hasn’t been arrested yet and she has even made friends lately. On my end, there is no problem, I am happy to see it work out so well. But rumors are pesky things and…”

“I don’t care much for rumors.” he spat.

“Even so.” the man sighed. “Perhaps, you could encourage her to have a chat with her friend? Clear the air.” He glanced at Trinket and made a face. “I apologize, this was a matter we should have discussed in my office. I would not want you to get ideas, Effie. Katniss is a young troubled girl Haymitch has taken under his wing. There is absolutely _nothing_ untoward going on but you know teenagers…”

“My kid _ain’t_ troubled.” he growled while the woman was making polite _no-no_ noises.

“I do not care much for that label either.” she remarked. “I am sure she is a _lovely_ young lady.”

He almost chuckled at the look Katniss would have if anyone ever called her a lady to her face.

“She’s a good kid.” he answered, in a softer tone. And she would be a great Slayer given the chance. She had the drive to survive. But that would be easier if the Watcher Council didn’t meddle.

Trinket smiled at him. “I cannot wait to meet her.”

He spent a long time after Plutarch had ushered her away wondering if that had been genuine or if it had been a threat.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta traced furrows in his mashed potatoes with his fork, wondering if there was a law somewhere that said school food had to taste _disgusting._ If Katniss noticed anything was off with the meal, she didn’t let on. She was sitting in front of him and she was eating with good appetite, checking her English Lit notes with obvious boredom. She had a test planned for after lunch, or something.

“How’s your mom doing?” he asked.

He didn’t really want to spend the whole lunch hour sitting in silence. That was why he had sought her out in the first place even though having lunch together was still a relatively new thing. He hadn’t really given her a choice in the matter once she had started eating in the cafeteria with everyone else instead of hiding away until classes started again, he had asked if she minded and had sat down and that had been the arrangement for close to a week now.

She didn’t seem to mind his company but the thing with Katniss Everdeen was that it was always hard to say what she really thought. Ever since the night he had found out who she really was, he felt he had made progresses at befriending her. He was allowed to drop by her house to watch movies with her and her sister and he had also been allowed to accompany her and Haymitch on patrol twice – not that either of them had been happy about it and not that he had really left them a choice about it when he had showed up at the cemetery in the middle of the night.

“A bit better.” Katniss answered after a second too long.

She put away her notes and focused back on her lunch, her grey eyes darting up from time to time to sweep around the cafeteria as if looking for a threat. It was loud in there and Peeta regretted not suggesting they took their lunch elsewhere. He wasn’t really in the mood to be surrounded by people. Of course, Katniss had _never_ been like most people – not that she was aware of it.

“I’m still angry about… you know.” she volunteered before he could try to probe some more. That was also a good sign that they were becoming real friends, he supposed, the fact that she actually told him things without him having to pull it out of her mouth now. He decided _you know_ meant her mother inviting a vampire inside their trailer, which had resulted in Prim getting kidnapped, so he simply nodded and let her continue. “The doc Haymitch found is okay. He changed her meds. She’s been up a little more but…” She shrugged. “The doc says the best thing would be for her to go to a clinic for a while.”

“Too expensive?” he hesitated. He knew she was sensitive about money matters, all the more so with him who didn’t have much troubles on that front. His father’s bakery was a really successful business and he didn’t lack for anything.

At least, on the money front.

But he dug his fork in the mash and brought it to his mouth before he could linger on that kind of thoughts.  They were better left unexplored. Particularly today when he was trying to forget his ribs hurt.

“There’s that.” she sighed. “And there’s the problem of where we’d go while she’s getting fixed.”

“Haymitch would take you in…” he pointed out.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head a little as she checked the room again. The fingers of her free hand were drumming impatiently on the edge of the table.

“I don’t know.” she replied, a little harshly. “He’s already paying for groceries and the doctor…”

He frowned and lowered his voice. “He’s your Watcher.”

“He’s my Watcher, not my dad.” she snapped. “And I can take care of Prim and myself. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

He lifted both hands defensively but he couldn’t help the tinge of jealousy in his voice. “Sure, sorry. Though if someone wanted to take care of me like that, I’d just say thanks and be happy about it.”

She frowned – in an angry way more than in a puzzled way – and he was pretty sure they would have ended up fighting if her gaze hadn’t suddenly darted to his right. The frown turned into a small scowl and she stood up without a word of explanation. He watched her cross half the room right up until she reached Gale Hawthorne who had just arrived.

The discussion seemed animated but he couldn’t hear anything from where he was sitting. Gale seemed to calm down eventually, even though Katniss was still gesturing wildly as she ranted.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up and smiled at Madge who was standing uncertainly next to the table and gestured at her to take a seat. They made small talk for a while. She was easy to talk to, if a little shy, and not for the first time since he had gotten his first glimpse of Katniss all that time ago in kindergarten, he wondered why he couldn’t simply like a girl who was less… _difficult_ than Katniss was. There were girls who at least _noticed_ him instead of merely _tolerating_ his presence.

But, of course, he wasn’t Gale Hawthorne and Gale Hawthorne was the only boy Katniss had ever willingly given the time of day to.

When Katniss came back, she was still scowling but she also looked more hurt and sad than angry, so it was hard to remain jealous.

“What’s wrong with Gale?” Madge asked after they exchanged a hello, saving him the trouble of asking that particular question. It would probably have sounded less innocent coming from him. 

“He’s being _stupid_.” Katniss scowled. “He went to Heavensbee and told him he thought Haymitch was being _inappropriate_. Haymitch told me at training two days ago and he _really_ wasn’t happy about it.” She shot him a mild glare. “See, it’s _complicated_. We can’t just move in like that.”

“What kind of training are you doing? I thought you quitted the team?” Madge inquired. “And who’s Haymitch?”

“She’s been training with Mr Abernathy.” Peeta answered quickly before Katniss could invent a lie that wouldn’t be believable at all. She wasn’t great at lying. “Like a teacher assistant.”

“Oh…” the girl said like it made all the sense in the world. “I didn’t know you were so good at History. And you said Gale went to the principal about it?”

“He went to the principal and said he was _concerned_ because of _all the time_ I spend with _a male teacher_ who I might not feel _comfortable_ saying no to.” she spat. The quotation marks were almost audible.

Peeta couldn’t help but laugh, his general bad mood of the day forgotten. “Has he _met_ you?”

Even Madge chuckled. “I can’t imagine you being uncomfortable saying no to anyone.”

Katniss relaxed a little and her mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile but she didn’t look any happier. “I just don’t want Haymitch to get in trouble. He said Heavensbee didn’t believe Gale but…”

She let her voice trail off.

“Hey.” Peeta said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He didn’t let the contact linger because he knew she wouldn’t like it. “It’s going to be fine. He’s just being a jerk because you don’t spend much time with him anymore.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “ _That_ was mentioned too. Seriously, what does he care if we have movie marathons? I told him he could come next time if he wanted and he said it wasn’t the point… Then, what’s the point?”

He and Madge exchanged a look and it was good to know Madge shared his own opinion about Gale’s interest in Katniss not being of the _friendly_ variety.

“You guys have been having movie marathons?” Madge asked, to change the topic.

“ _Peeta and my sister_ have movie marathons.” Katniss grumbled. “I just show up for the cupcakes.”

“We’re trying to educate Katniss.” he joked. “She hasn’t seen anything worth watching. You should come next time.” He smiled at Madge who smiled back and suddenly, for no good reason that he could think of, Katniss was scowling again. Maybe it was because he had essentially invited her to the Everdeen’s house, he had noticed Katniss had been even more defensive than usual the first few times he had gone to her trailer, as if waiting for him to make a comment. “We could go to my house this time…”

He offered with reluctance and already knowing he would try to take it back through any way possible.

Katniss had reasons she didn’t want people over.

He had his own.

“Or you could come to mine, maybe?” Madge suggested. “We have this big screen… Besides, it’s mostly me. Dad works late and Mom spends most of her time in her room.” She shrugged a little awkwardly. “You could bring your sister. And Gale if he wants to come. I wouldn’t mind…”

“That sounds good.” Peeta immediately answered. He could almost _feel_ Madge’s loneliness, he knew the kind and he didn’t want her to feel rejected.

Katniss’ grey eyes were traveling from her to him, back and forth. Her voice was a little guarded when she finally nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool.” Madge grinned and it was a lovely grin, he couldn’t help but notice.

He found himself smiling back.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before how pretty she was. He usually had eyes only for Katniss though and, of course, Katniss was beautiful but in a different way… They looked good next to each other… Dark and fair. Dangerous and sweet…

The two girls gathering their stuff and standing up put a stop to his daydreaming.

He was confused by the suddenness of the move. “What…”

Katniss was watching him as if he had grown a second head. “Don’t you have Art or something?”

“But there’s still half an hour left.” he objected. He was sure because he had checked his watch when Madge had sat down.

“The bell just rang.” she scoffed. “You’ve been sitting here smiling like an idiot for ages. What were you thinking about?”

He could feel his face turn crimson.

He was pretty certain she didn’t want to know what he had been thinking about. He shouldn’t have been thinking about the kind of things he had been thinking about. Not when he respected Katniss and Madge so much. Not when he was usually doing his best not to swoop to the levels of most of his friends. The kind of talk he heard in the locker rooms after wrestling practice…

He scrambled up and grabbed his bag, suddenly desperate to get out of there before either girl could notice the embarrassing problem he was having. He hurried out of the room, mumbling excuses over his shoulder and almost knocked Miss Tigris off her feet.

He ran all the way to the closest bathroom and berated himself all the while. _This_ wasn’t him. He was growing mad. Maybe it was finally the knowledge that the occult was a real thing catching up to him. Maybe it had pushed him over the edge. Maybe…

Or maybe he was just more of a typical teenager boy than he wanted to admit.

Either way he felt guilty about having thought about Katniss and Madge that way – all the more so because he really wasn’t interested in Madge – and he had to run all the way to the Art classroom to make it on time. His ribs were aching something fierce and practice would be torture that afternoon.

He ducked inside the room just as Miss Trinket was about to close the door and he flashed her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“ _Do_ try to be on time.” she chided gently. “Punctuality is _everything.”_   She clapped her hands to get the general attention, a bright smile on her lips. “Now, now. Let’s continue what we started the other day, shall we? Pick up your canvas and go to work, children!”

Peeta and the others did as they were told, picking up the canvas they had been working on and setting them back on the easels. Peeta had more or less claimed one for himself at the back of the class because it was in a corner. He didn’t like people peeking over his shoulder when he drew.

His mother never grew tired of telling him this was a waste of time and she probably was right but drawing had always been his favorite form of escape ever since he had been in age of holding a pencil. One of his earliest memory was decorating cakes with his father. Even today, he was often in charge of the frostings when he helped out at the bakery.

“Now, remember the assignment…” Miss Trinket hummed. “Paint something that scares you. Dominate and sublimate it.”

She smiled at him when she walked past, just like she was smiling at everyone else. There was something a little _hyper_ about her, as if her skin was a little too tight for her, as if she was made for much _bigger_ things than teaching Art in a high school with no good Art program. Looking at her, it wasn’t difficult to guess why. She looked like she could have been a model or something… She had been there for less than a week and already half the boys in school were in love with her and the other half plain and simply were fantasizing about her.

Peeta liked her well enough. Their last Art teacher – the one who had been found with suspicious puncture marks in his neck – had showed them power point after power point without giving them many opportunities to practice. He hadn’t wanted them to dirty the classroom. Miss Trinket didn’t mind what they did with paint as long as they cleaned it afterwards – and as Marvel had discovered after having tried to toss some pain at him the other day, she _would_ make them clean it.

She didn’t have to work hard to enforce discipline. Unlike some other teachers, she didn’t have to shout or get angry. A pout and a disappointed look was all it took.

In some aspects, she reminded him of Haymitch.

He painted a little mechanically. He had done most of the groundwork during the previous class and now it was more of a matter of adjusting the colors and finding the right balance. His mind wasn’t really on it though. He was thinking about Gale and what would happen if Katniss told him the truth.

Haymitch had forbidden it, of course. It was against the rules – which made sense because he couldn’t even imagine the mass hysteria if people learned vampires were real – and the Watcher already wasn’t happy about _him_ being in the known. Peeta had tried to tell him he wasn’t some helpless burden they would have to shift around, that he could hold his own and _help…_ The two patrols he had crashed had been the extent of his involvement in the supernatural so far and neither Katniss nor Haymitch had let him try to have a go against a vampire even though he had brought a stake.

They kept saying it was for his own protection but he didn’t think they were being fair. He was captain of the wrestling team for a reason. He was strong, he was smart and he knew his limits. He just wanted to _help_.

But if Katniss told Gale… If Katniss told Gale, he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t hesitate so much about bringing him on patrol as back-up. They would just jump around shooting arrows at all the bad guys and he would be left cheering from the sideline up until she forgot he even existed and it would go back to how it had been before with him trying desperately to get her to notice him and her…

Marvel knocked him from behind on his way back from fetching some clean water. His brush glided across the canvas, smearing a long trace of dark paint over the rough sketch.

“Oops, sorry.” Marvel chuckled. Peeta glared at him but it only seemed to amuse him more. “What’s the matter, lover boy? Not even going to stand up for yourself? That girlfriend of yours really made you a wimp, didn’t she?”

“What’s your problem?” he retorted.

But he knew what Marvel’s problem was. It was the same problem Glimmer had. The same problem all his friends had. Cato and Clove were _gone_ , officially missing but in a town like the Seam missing often meant dead, and _he_ had completely deserted their little group for Katniss.

Had she even noticed his friends were giving him a hard time? He didn’t think so.

“Hang out with losers, get treated like a loser.” Marvel hissed, stepping right in his space.

Peeta clenched his jaw but he refused to take the bait. It would have been easy to hurt Marvel – well, maybe not _easy_ because he had a footballer body but Peeta knew where to hit to cause pain. Violence should _never_ be an answer – at least when the person in front of you wasn’t a vampire, a demon or actively trying to kill you – that was something he had learned the hard way. He didn’t want to be _that_ guy. He didn’t _ever_ want to be the person who thought with his fists or use them as an outlet for his frustration.

“Go back to your easel, if you please, Marvel. You and I will have a talk after class.” Miss Trinket ordered, appearing at this side as if summoned by magic. She inspected his canvas and winced in sympathy. “Perhaps some white paint…”

“It’s fine.” he told her. “I’ll work around it.”

_Something that scared him_.

There was something really cathartic about splashing black paint all over the canvas. Everywhere around him, the other kids were painting monsters, spiders and weird shaped aliens… He found his _zone_ and he started working without even really knowing what he was doing. His ribs were smarting from the bread trail that had slammed into them that morning, still hot from the oven, and the anger was bubbling under the surface.

He didn’t even hear the bell ringing.

He barely heard the lecture Miss Trinket gave Marvel once the other students were gone. He kept on painting, half aware he would be late for practice and that would mean getting a lecture of his own. He didn’t care much about wrestling, he had gone into it because all his brothers had before him. His thing was painting but his mother thought it was a waste of time when she didn’t outright tell him he was a waste of space…

“This is really good… Much better than your original project. Perhaps I should not have scolded Marvel that much…” Miss Trinket commented softly, in a teasing tone. She was right next to him again but this time he had heard the clicking of her heels coming closer so he didn’t really startle. “Is it done?”

He surveyed the piece and dropped the brush in the glass of water. He wouldn’t be able to do anything more until the paint had dried anyway. But… It looked alright like this.

“I think so.” he answered after a moment.

The whole canvas was black and white curves swirled around the surface. They didn’t look like much if you didn’t focus but if you did they made out crude profiles. He wasn’t sure anyone else would be able to see them or even recognize the people on it. It was abstract, more than what he usually did.

“Who is the woman?” Miss Trinket asked thoughtfully – and a little carefully to his ears. “Her face is everywhere.”

He had been focusing on Katniss’ vague profile but her remark made him take a step back and he realized, his guts clenching, there was indeed one profile that came out a lot more often than others. Maybe because his ribs had been hurting or maybe because his father had pressed a few bills in his hands that morning and told him to buy himself something nice in that same apologetic tone Peeta hated or maybe because he felt so damn _weird_ today…

He had painted his mother’s profile. Again and again.

“No one.” he lied.

“The assignment was to draw something that scares you…” Miss Trinket pointed out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away. Her hand hovered in the air for a second and then she simply lowered it down gracefully. He was afraid she would press the point but she simply smiled at him and looked back at the painting again. “You have talent, Peeta. This is _really_ good.”

He wasn’t sure it was _that_ good. He thought she might have been trying to be kind. Still, she was nice. “Thanks. I should…”

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, glancing at the delicate golden watch around her wrist. “We would not want you to be late again.”

She sounded more teasing than serious so he smiled back, quickly cleaned up his station and grabbed his bag. He was at the door when he paused. “Your perfume…”

It had bugged him ever since she had come close enough for him to smell it. It was heavy but not too much and a little fruity too and a part of him hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about the curve of her neck or how tight the cashmere sweater she was wearing was… It was the same part that had made his mind wander during lunch and he wasn’t really interested in a _repeat_.

“Yes?” she encouraged with a small puzzled frown, her head tilted to the side.

_What was he doing?_

Why was today that weird?

“It smells good.” he mumbled, red in the face, and then he left without even acknowledging her thank you.

Forget practice, he needed a cold shower. And maybe some form of exorcism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeta is struuuuggling. What, you didn't think there wouldn't be angst, yeah? So, is there something weird in the air or what? Any theory? Let me know your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

Katniss _wasn’t_ hiding in Haymitch’s classroom. She had simply made the judicious choice of removing herself from the rest of the school before she _killed_ someone. She had a free period and she didn’t  want to have to witness another brawl between two boys fighting over a girl or having to get involved because one of the football players thought it was perfectly okay to _assault_ girls in the hallway. One of them had groped Madge that morning and Katniss had almost broken his arm.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to boys but they had been even stranger and more annoying than usual for close to a week. Every time she met Gale he made more or less covert remarks about Peeta and every time she met Peeta he asked if she had seen Gale and if she wanted to hang out as if he didn’t have dozens of other friends he could spend time with.

Even Madge thought the male population was acting _really_ weird. They had even caught the principal giving flowers to his assistant.

“I’ve been trying to reach her for a week.” Haymitch snapped. He had been on the phone when she had come in but she had still taken a seat, figuring that if he wanted privacy he would tell her so. As far as she could tell, he had been kept on hold for a while. “Look, I want to talk to Mags Cohen. She ain’t answering her phone at home. I know you keep track of your Watchers… If she’s missing…”

On the phone with the Council, then. Katniss propped her head on her hand and watched him get more and more agitated, wondering if she should get a headstart on her homework because after school there would be training and patrolling and she wasn’t really keeping on top of the grade situation. Not that she cared much. There were more important things in life. Like making sure Prim had everything she needed and that the vampire population remained under check.

“What do you mean she _ain’t_ missing?” he spat. “She’s _eighty_. Don’t tell me you sent her out on a mission at _eighty_?” He paused for a long time and then snorted. “Yeah, good. Get President Coin on the line. _Finally_. I’ve just been asking for twenty minutes.”  He glared at the phone and then looked back at her. “They’ve put me on hold again.”

“Who’s Mags Cohen?” she asked.

He hesitated and then shrugged, bringing the phone back against his ear. “She used to be a Watcher. She’s a very good friend of mine. And I wanted some information…” He placed his hand on the mouthpiece, which seemed a bit overkill since he was on hold anyway, and frowned at her. “You’re avoiding the new Art teacher like I told you, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. For a whole week she had been making unnecessary detours while stealing a peek at the woman every time she could get away with it. She didn’t really see what the big deal was because the woman _wasn’t_ a vampire and she looked harmless – and totally ridiculous, she spoke loud, laughed a lot and twirled her hands in the air when she talked in a theatrical way. And that was without mentioning the clothes. She was always wearing at least _one_ item in a blinding bright color. “Ever gonna tell me why I’m avoiding her?”

Haymitch studied her for a while and then shrugged. “Training exercise.”

That was a lie and she scowled at him. She didn’t like being manipulated or lied to. “You…”

“Yeah, I’m here.” he suddenly said into the phone. “Yeah, Alma, I know there’s a time difference. Sorry for your tea time.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t get a hold on Mags.” A pause and then an angry expression twisted his features. “You really think _I_ need a reason to want to talk to Mags? I check in with her every other week, it _ain’t_ normal I can’t reach her.” There was a long pause and then anger turned to worry. “What do you mean _a stroke_? Why didn’t anyone call me?” Next thing Katniss knew, he was on his feet and pacing the length of the room, almost growling into his cell phone. “ _I_ ’m her _fucking_ next of kin! And why didn’t _Finnick_ call me, then? I’ve got a right to…” He abruptly shut up and then rubbed his neck. “How bad is it? I could catch a plane tonight…” More silence on his part then. “Yeah. Right. I _know_ I can’t leave my Slayer alone, _thanks_. Okay. No, everything’s fine here, we don’t need any help. Tell Finnick to call me or I’m gonna strangle him next time I see him.”

He cut the call off and tossed the phone on his desk but he didn’t stop his pacing.

“Is your friend alright?” Katniss asked. A stroke sounded _bad_.

“Stable.” he grumbled. “Once I get a hold on that little peacock, though… Last week and _nobody_ called me yet?”

She had never seen him that agitated. He wasn’t really forthcoming about his past and she never pried because… She understood wanting to keep some things close to one’s chest. She wouldn’t have liked people asking questions about her parents, her sister or her home life and she appreciated that Haymitch never directly inquired about it. Oh, he had ways of figuring out what he wanted to know, of course, but he never _confronted_ her about that stuff. He gave her her space and she was grateful for that.

Still, she was a little curious. “Finnick’s your brother?”

He had mentioned a brother once and if that Mags was his next of kin… Well, it wasn’t a huge leap to take.

Haymitch stopped pacing and stood frozen, as if she had struck him.

“My brother’s dead, sweetheart.” he said quietly. “Finnick’s… a close friend.”

His voice was calm but she could tell he was anything but. His tone was too controlled, too _neutral_ … Haymitch was hardly ever _neutral_. Sarcasm was his default answer to everything and anger a close second behind that. When he wasn’t sarcastic or angry, he was bitter. Neutral was… bad.

“Like Mags?” she hesitated.

She wasn’t the only hesitant one. They were on treacherous ground, here.

They weren’t in a habit of exchanging confidences like that.

“Yeah, a bit.” he finally offered. Another beat of silence and then he licked his lips and started toward the window, turning his back on her. “Mags raised me. My house… It was hers. She gave it to me when my first Slayer was called. Maysilee.”

The way he said it was odd, a little dreadful, as if he was waiting for her to connect some dots. He had been raised by a Watcher…. He had said he had known seven Slayers in all but only trained five, herself not included… Were the two Slayers Mags had been responsible for the Slayers in question? But how had Haymitch ended up raised by a Watcher?

“Look, if you want to go to England, you should. I can deal with vampires by myself for a few days.” she offered. What was the worst that could happen? The rumor that there was a Slayer in town had started to spread anyway, vampires were being a little more careful. Lately, on patrol, she mostly found fledglings or very reckless ones.

He turned around and stared at her, his arms folded in front of his chest almost as if he was hugging himself in a weird display of vulnerability. He seemed to be considering it, which told her that Watcher was really important to him because she was pretty sure nothing else would have dragged him away from his duty.

He might always joke about it and claim he had never wanted to get another Slayer but he was as dedicated to being her Watcher as could be. At least when he wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor – that had happened twice so far as she knew of and, to be fair, he hadn’t been expecting her to show up either time. 

She wasn’t sure what he would have said if Peeta hadn’t barged into the classroom right at that moment, looking out of breath.

“Ah good! You’re here!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Have you heard about Woof?”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “What has he lost now?”

Katniss smiled although she tried not to. Mr Woof was always losing stuff – his marker, his car keys, the solution to his math problems… He was a bit old and the question of his retirement was a recurring joke. 

“His clothes.” Peeta deadpanned, looking at her and Haymitch in turn.

“Good for him.” Haymitch snorted. “That makes one of us.”

That was a piece of information she hadn’t needed and she glared at him.

“And his _heart_.” Peeta added with a cringe.

Haymitch made a face. “Tell me this is a figure of speech.”

“I wish.” he answered softly. “It’s all over the school. They found him in his classroom. The police is about to take the body away. I couldn’t get close enough to see if there were bite marks on his neck.”

Haymitch scowled and then bitterly snorted. “Guess this settles that. Ain’t going anywhere, Katniss.” Then he strode toward the door and Katniss automatically bolted out of her chair to follow, Peeta falling into steps next to her. Haymitch kept mumbling to himself. “Wouldn’t be bite marks… That ain’t a vampire M.O.”

“Then _what_?” Katniss frowned. She struggled to keep up with him, the corridors were crowded with curious students and Haymitch had to bark three times for them to go back to their respective classroom before they managed to get through.

“Demon. Cult. A serial killer. Your guess is as good as mine until I can get my eyes on the body.” he muttered.

It occurred to her that it was where they were headed: to see Mr Woof’s body and she stopped dead in her tracks. She liked her Math teacher. She didn’t want to see him naked or heartless or _dead_.

There was a small group of people in front of Woof’s classroom. Heavensbee, some police officers in uniforms and a couple of teachers…

Peeta had noticed her hesitation but Haymitch hadn’t. Not that it mattered much anyway because she didn’t see how they were going to sneak into a crime scene to get a peek at the body…

“Stay back.” Haymitch murmured. “I’ll try to get a closer look.”

“There were a lot more cops earlier.” Peeta explained in a low voice. “I think there are only those two left.”

They watched Haymitch approach the group with a – fake or not, it was hard to tell with him – concerned expression on his face. He was welcomed into the group easily enough. Miss Tigris was sobbing and Heavensbee was awkwardly trying to comfort her, greeting Haymitch with something akin to relief… There was a lot of talking between the teachers and the cops…

All in all, it was lucky Miss Trinket erupted in hysterics at that moment because, otherwise, Katniss didn’t see how Haymitch would have managed to go in and out of the room undetected. Lucky for them, Trinket’s breakdown seemed to last just long enough for him to slip in and out without being noticed.  

“Do you think she’s alright?” Peeta worried. “I hope she’s alright…”

Katniss took a look at the woman and decided she simply liked having the spotlight directed at her. She really didn’t see why Haymitch didn’t want her to go anywhere near her.

It took Haymitch ten more minutes to extract himself from the group and walk back down to them. He didn’t look happy but, then again, he had just peeked at the dead body of someone he was used to meeting every day in the staff room.

“Someone clawed his heart out. I’m gonna say demons.” he sighed, looking grim. “We’re gonna need to hit the books.”

“Can I help?” Peeta immediately asked.

Haymitch seemed to hesitate but Katniss rolled her eyes.

“He’s just going to show up anyway.” she told her Watcher. “And he’s good at research.”

Peeta beamed at her and it was Haymitch’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay. Fine.”

“I’ll bring donuts.” Peeta declared

“A little less cheer, kid.” her Watcher chided. “There’s still a dead body.” He paused for a second and then added. “Grab some of those chocolate croissants you brought on patrol the other night if you can, yeah? Those were good.”

°O°O°O°O°

Katniss was turning into a promising fighter but she was hopeless when it came down to research.

Haymitch had her practicing knife tossing in a corner of the library just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her sigh over dusty books any longer. He was also keeping an eye on the clock. With something that ate hearts on the loose, they would need to patrol extra hard  that night. He was toying with the thought of separating to cover more ground but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Katniss without backup.

Or at least a backup who wasn’t a sixteen year-old boy without any demon fighting training but who seemed to be a fixed addition to their future. It was odd being three. Watcher and Slayer, that was how it worked usually, although Haymitch’s experience had never really followed that pattern… First there had been him and his brother and Mags, and then there had been him, Mags and Mabel… He and Maysilee had worked in close quarters with a warlock for quite a while… It had been a tandem with both Alina, Cecelia and Jo but, of course, with Annie there had been Finnick…

Thinking about Finnick made him think about Mags and he shut down that train of thought quickly enough. The younger Watcher had yet to call him back and worrying about it… Worrying about it wouldn’t bring him anything.

He washed that thought down with a gulp of his flask, ignoring Peeta’s disapproving blue eyes. Katniss didn’t seem to mind his drinking habits much but the boy had that judgmental spark in his eyes every time he drank some liquor in front of him. Mostly, Haymitch tried to ignore him. When Peeta had buried as many people as he had and seen as many horrors as he did, he could come and judge him all he liked. Until then, Haymitch would keep on drinking. Besides, he was sober enough. He always stayed sober enough when his Slayer needed him.

He closed the _Maleficum_ and dragged _Hellish Beasts And Other Demons_ toward him, hoping he would have more luck there.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the regular noise of Katniss’ knives hitting the target. She tossed the knives, retrieved them, tossed them, retrieve them… A weird clock in herself.

“I think I got it.” Peeta said suddenly. Haymitch looked up and Katniss left her practice to swiftly join them around the big round table. The boy turned the book around so they could both see the not so nice illustrations.

“Gross.” Katniss cringed when she saw the pictures. The demon didn’t look nice and what it was doing to those people was even less so.

“Succubus…” Haymitch read out loud, taking the book from the kid’s hands. Yeah, that could fit the pattern… He had never seen one himself in all those years. They were rare.

“They say it’s a demon who can look human outside of feeding times.” the boy summed up. “They go on a feeding spree once every few years. The succubus preys on men and tears their hearts out during coitus.”

“Coitus?” Katniss wrinkled her nose.

“It means sex.” Peeta helpfully offered.

“I know what it means, it’s just… _Disgusting_.” she replied. “So what? This demon just shows up and…”

“She seduces her victims.” Haymitch cut her off, his eyes skimming the text. “When the feeding period begins, her pheromones tend to make the general male population around her obsessed with sex… More than usual, at least.”

“Explains why all the boys have been acting crazy.” she commented, looking at them suspiciously. “But… Wouldn’t you two have noticed? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He and Peeta exchanged a look. A look was all it took to confirm they had both probably been hornier than usual lately. Men didn’t need to discuss _those things_.

At least, it explained _some_ things. Like why he had been feeling like a teenager again. His hand had been cramping from all the wet dreams he had been having.

“At least Woof died happy. Poor man.” he muttered.

“How do we kill it?” Katniss asked, bringing the conversation back on track. She was also tossing them disappointed glances as if she had been expecting much better from both of them.

“Pretty much everything will do…” he answered, after having looked the text over again. “Wouldn’t go with just a bow though… Better bring knives too, to be safe.”

“Great.” she deadpanned but she also looked impatient for battle. Vampire activity had been slow lately and the thrill of a fight was in a Slayer’s blood.

“But how do we _find_ the succubus?” Peeta asked. “If she looks human, it could be anyone…”

That stalled them all for a second until Haymitch figured it out and snorted.

“I’m a _fucking_ idiot.” he spat.

“Nobody is going to dispute _that_ …” Katniss muttered under her breath.

He shot her a glare but leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I knew there was something weird about that woman… Thought she was a spy from the Council, that’s why I was trying to reach Mags…”

But maybe it had just been his instincts warning him and his current paranoia about Coin’s policies had clouded his judgment. What had she said? That she had come back to the States to be closer to her family? When her family lived in Los Angeles? It was probably the Hellmouth that she wanted to get closer to. 

“Who?” Katniss frowned and then realized. “The Art teacher? _That’s_ why you wanted me to avoid her?”

“Miss Trinket?” Peeta cut in with a desolate face. “But she’s _so_ nice… There’s no way she can be a demon. I mean…”

“Think about it, boy.” Haymitch rebuked. “I don’t know about you but for me the whole horny-thing started the day she arrived. And, like I said, she’s fishy. Besides she’s…”

He let his sentence trail off but he could tell from Peeta’s expression that he didn’t need to finish it.

“She’s what?” Katniss insisted, apparently not on the same wavelength.

_Hot. Beautiful. Sexy. Feisty enough to be interesting. Take your pick._

“She looks like a sex demon would look if she was human.” he said as diplomatically as he could.

It took almost a whole minute for Katniss to decipher that one. And then she scoffed. “You think she’s _attractive_.”

He shrugged. “Sweetheart, demon or not, she _is_ attractive.”

“And you think so too?” The question was directed straight at Peeta with the velocity of one of her arrows and the boy almost _ducked_ behind one of the pile of books.

_E tu, Brute_ , Haymitch couldn’t help but think with a smirk.

“She’s… She’s…” Peeta stuttered to a stop and turned toward Haymitch. “How do we check for sure she’s a demon? It’s just… She’s _really_ nice.”

“Yeah, right until she _fucks_ the heart out of you.” he snorted.

Katniss made another disgusted face. “Peeta’s got a point. I can’t just go killing her if she’s not a demon.”

“ _You think_?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll be bait. When she turns into an ugly demon, you can come to the rescue.”

“You’ll be bait.” Katniss repeated dubiously.

“Are you sure?” Peeta said, just as dubiously.

He lifted an eyebrow at the kid. “What? You want to do it?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question because there was no way Haymitch would have let him do it but the boy still took a second too long to refuse. And his blue eyes darted to Katniss before coming back on him, his cheeks a little red.

“No. Obviously not.” the kid mumbled. “And she’s not _that_ attractive anyway. I mean…”

Katniss’ expression was dark and Haymitch chuckled.

“Quit while you’re ahead, boy.” he advised wisely. “Alright. We’ve got a plan, that’s good.”

“How are you going to play bait when we don’t know where she lives?” Katniss asked. “ _Do_ you know where she lives?”

“Do I look like a fucking phone book to you?” he scoffed.

“The school.” Peeta said. “I mean… They’d have her address on record, right? If we can get into Cardew or Heavensbee’s computer…”

Haymitch checked his watch again. It was late enough that the high school would be empty or close to it. He shrugged. “Well… It’s been a while since I last broke in somewhere.”

Of course, it was never _that_ easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a succubuuuuus! Did you enjoy this chapter? Is the school outing going to work out? What do you think will happen? Let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

Haymitch’s bike was faster than Peeta’s truck and he arrived first at the school to find the doors unlocked despite the late hour. He was inspecting the broken locks when the kids finally showed up.

“There are three cars in the parking lot.” Peeta informed him.

Haymitch hadn’t bothered parking, he had left the bike on the curb like he often did.

“Maybe we won’t need to go looking for an address after all.” he muttered. “Peeta, you’ve got a weapon?”

He didn’t bother asking Katniss because her bow was in her hand and he could see the quiver on her back. He hoped she had followed his advices and had brought knives too. He also didn’t bother suggesting Peeta waited in the car because, all things considered, the boy would probably be safer with one of them than out there where vampires could grab him while they were busy hunting monsters.

Peeta wordlessly fished a stake out of his jacket pocket. That wouldn’t take him far and, with a sigh, Haymitch slipped out the knife he kept in his boot and handed it over. “Just in case. But _don’t_ try to take a demon by yourself. You’re attacked, you run.”

He pushed the door and they all sneaked inside. It was dark and silent and there was something very eerie to that school after hours, always had been. He couldn’t remember the number of times he and Mabel had been forced to break in at some point or another, to fight vampires or hunt demons or… He chased the memories away. There were no need to add ghosts to those dark corridors when they were already tracking a monster.

“We should separate.” Katniss whispered.

“That’s what they always say in horror movies before getting killed one after the other.” Peeta countered on the same tone.

“If you’re scared…” Katniss retorted, a little louder.

“I’m _not_ scared.” Peeta protested.

Haymitch, on his part, rolled his eyes.

“ _Quiet_.” he ordered in a low voice. “You kids, go right. I’ll take left. We loop around and meet up near the principal office. If you find Trinket, try to force her to reveal herself. Don’t take unnecessary risks. If you see the succubus in demon form, you shout for me.”

“Will you shout for us?” Katniss frowned. “Cause last time…”

Last time he had stupidly tried to confront Cashmere on his own and it hadn’t ended so well for him. This time he’d be prepared.

“I’ll shout.” he promised, taking a step toward the west wing of the school.

“Wait.” Peeta said. “Do you have your phone? There’s no need to _shout_ , it’s not the middle ages.”

It only took a minute to call the kids and wedge the phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Now, with the call open, if one of them found anything, the others would hear. That kid really had good ideas.

“Don’t let him get himself killed.” Haymitch told Katniss. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“So, nothing stupid, then?” she mocked.

_Sassy kid_ , he thought, not without fondness as he set off on his own, trying _not_  to linger on the boy’s remark about horror movies. Again, he had a point. But assuming one of the cars in the parking lot was Trinket’s – and since she had already fed on the premises, it might very well be – that left maybe two civilians on school ground and that meant two potential victims. Separating would go quicker. 

He adjusted his grip on the stake he had pulled out of his own jacket. Just in case it wasn’t the succubus roaming around but a good old bloodsucker, and told himself everything would be fine. It would be Katniss’ first demon but she could handle it. She had the training and she had the strength.

Small noises echoed down the corridor and he wondered if the kids could pick it through the phone or if it was too tenuous. He carefully followed the sound to his own classroom. The beam of a flashlight was moving around and when Haymitch’s boot squeaked against the linoleum floor, it turned directly into his face. He lifted the hand that was closed around the stake to shield his eyes and felt around the wall for the light switch with the other.

“Oh!” a high-pitched female voice exclaimed when light flooded the classroom.

Two could play at blinding the other.

He would have liked to say he was surprised but he wasn’t. There stood Effie Trinket, wearing tight fitting black pants and a loose powder-blue mid-sleeves shirt with three long beaded necklaces swaying gently around her neck, her blond hair in disarray and her phone clutched in her hand, the small light insignificant now that the neon tubes were flooding them in their harsh glare.

Her blue eyes stayed fixed on the stake for a second but if she was surprised or shocked at seeing him clutching a pointy piece of wood, she didn’t let on.

“Looking for something?” he asked.

Her gaze darted up to his face and then back to the stake before she turned off the flashlight on her phone with studied disinterest. “Yes, actually.”

“And you thought you could find it in my classroom?” he insisted, hoping the kids would hear and come barging in – well, actually, he hoped they would move his way but that Peeta would hold Katniss back long enough that Trinket lost her disguise and turned full demon.

Trinket looked a little rattled. Maybe it was the stake.

“I was hoping you had something that could help, yes.” she deadpanned. “But the only thing you seem to be keeping in your desk is alcohol, which I do not find as shocking as it should be.”

 “Oh, I have something that can help alright…” he smirked, taking a few confident steps toward her. “I know what you want…”

“Given how diligently you have been avoiding me, I very much doubt that.” she huffed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me…” he continued, advancing on her slowly. He half-expected her to step back but she held her ground, lifting her chin higher in a challenging attitude that made his pants a little uncomfortable. He did like difficult women, that was his curse. “Looked almost _hungry,_ sweetheart.”

She pursed her lips in anticipation. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “ _Preposterous_. And do not call me pet names if you would.”

He was in front of her, then, and she stopped talking. He placed his hands on her hips and she didn’t even flinch when she felt the length of the stake pressed against her side. A gentle push and she let him guide her backwards until her back hit the desk.

“Mr Abernathy, this is _highly_ unprofessional.” she replied. “Not to mention… There might very well be a…”

“I’ve been thinking about it since we met.” he confessed. “It’s that posh accent of yours…”

She didn’t look very impressed. “Do you hate all the people with an English accent or is it only me? I will have you know I _am_ an American, I simply spent over half my life in England. One picks up a few things along the way.”

He reached out and brushed her blond curls back behind her shoulder, forcing himself not to remember the illustrations in the book and what she must have really looked like under the human disguise.

“You know the babble’d be cute if your voice wasn’t so _damn_ annoying.” he taunted.

She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head to the side in irritation but her pupils were a little blown and he took that as a good sign. If she was getting aroused, she would stop pretending to be human soon and try to make him his meal.

“They _did_ warn me you were infuriating.” she commented. “They did not warn me you would be so forward. Truly when did I _ever_ give you any hint that…”

“If you don’t want it, tell me to stop.” he challenged.

She licked her lips, her breathing that little bit faster…

She remained mute though.

“You’re really hot.” he hummed, leaning in to press a kiss on her neck. He was completely in her space now. One of her hands landed on his waist, the other on his shoulder and her head fell completely to the side with a soft surprised noise. “ _So_ hot…” He pressed another kiss on her neck, a little higher, and let his tongue poke at her skin. She clutched at his jacket, letting out a sound that was between a whimper and a sigh.

He kissed his way up her jaw.

“ _Fuck_ …” she hissed.

He hadn’t expected her to be vulgar and his hips jerked forward of their own volition. He wasn’t sure if her pressing back was deliberate but it drove him mad. 

She smelt so good… _Tasted_ so good…

He was losing grip…

If she didn’t reveal herself soon, he might not be able to resist her spell any longer…

“Mr Abernathy…” she breathed out with a hint of gravity, as if she was clinging to the last of her sanity. “Are you quite certain…”

“Haymitch.” he corrected.

She was about to kill him, she might as well call him by his given name.

And then he kissed her.

There was only a second of hesitation on her part. Then, she kissed back and it was _glorious_. Her hands were in his hair, tilting his head the way she wanted it and he only vaguely heard the clicking sound of his stake hitting the floor because he was too busy grabbing her ass to lift her up onto the desk. He kept his eyes closed, a little too scared she would look demon-y when he would open them and it was _so good_ he wanted to keep the lie alive a little longer.

For the first time in his life, he understood why so many humans were so eager to give in to the darkness.

He wasn’t sure the sex would be worth losing one’s life or soul over but right then it certainly seemed like it.

He felt himself completely losing grip. She was too warm, too perfect, too inviting…

He didn’t even have it in him to call his Slayer for help.

°O°O°O°O°

Peeta was doing his best to follow Katniss _silently_ but her irritated looks told him he wasn’t being stealthy enough.

The school had never been his favorite place but, at night, it was even worse.

“Why didn’t you tell me Miss Trinket might be a demon?” he whispered after a couple of minutes because he needed a distraction. He had been watching Katniss’ six rather than their surroundings and he wasn’t sure if he could entirely blame the succubus effects on his metabolism for it or not. To be entirely honest, it wasn’t the first time he had checked her out and that didn’t date back from a week ago.

She shot him another chiding look because his voice carried in the empty corridors even worse than his footsteps did. _She_ didn’t make a sound. She was in full hunter mode. She hadn’t notched any arrows yet but she was focused and he knew it would only take a second to grab one from the quiver at her back.

His palm was sweaty around the handle of Haymitch’s knife.

“I didn’t know.” she answered eventually. “He just told me to avoid her.”

“And you didn’t ask why?” he whispered back.

She rolled her eyes. “Last week he had me standing on my hands without moving for a whole hour. I didn’t ask why either. Slayer training stuff is ridiculous.”

“Fair enough.” he sighed. “But I wish you wouldn’t keep that sort of things from me. I’m part of the team, right?”

It came out more insecure than he wanted it to but she barely even blinked.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” she retorted. “Why haven’t you told me you were feeling weird?”

_Because I didn’t think you would like to hear I was thinking about you naked,_ he absolutely _didn’t_ say.

Just then, Haymitch’s voice came out of his phone. He had set the volume as low as possible for maximum discretion but it was enough for them to hear the Watcher still.

“ _Looking for something_?” A pause. _“And you think you could find it in my classroom?”_

They exchanged a look and took off down an adjacent corridor without a word. They were at the other end of the school from Haymitch’s classroom and it would take them a good ten minutes even at a run. Time enough for Haymitch to get himself killed while playing bait.

He was running so hard his blood was pumping in his ears and it was probably lucky because he _really_ didn’t want to hear what was coming out of his phone. His History teacher and his Art teacher’s weird brand of flirting was disturbing and it was nothing to when Haymitch actually got it going on.

There were kissing noises before long.

Katniss shot him a disgusting look. “How long before she turns demon?”

He shrugged helplessly. The book hadn’t said and the only one of their trio with actual demon knowledge was currently making out with one.

And then Haymitch let out a scream of agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh... Is Effie going to eat Haymitch? (in a non enjoyable way?) Let me know your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

“This is a mistake.” Trinket mumbled against his mouth before capturing it again in another savage kiss.

“What?” Haymitch snorted, _forcing_ himself to draw back long enough to take a good look, telling himself that if she didn’t look human anymore he wouldn’t hesitate twice before stabbing her. “Conflicted conscience?”

It would have been a first. A conflicted demon. It was hard to suppress one’s nature, all the more so when survival was involved.

She opened her mouth, probably to _eat him_ and he kissed her again. One last time, he told himself as he licked the roof of her mouth, prompting to make another one of those keening sounds. Just one last kiss. Then he would let her turn demon and he would get rid of her… Or let Katniss get rid of her. He _would_ …

The things she would do with her tongue were _evil_.

He slipped one hand under her blouse and pressed his palm flat on her lower back. Her skin was soft and warm and it made him want _more_.

Then again, he figured succubus knew their trade. She would probably only show her real self once he was too far gone under her spell…

“Haymitch…” she breathed out against his lips. “Haymitch, you need to stop. I strongly suspect there is a…”

A man screamed.

They both snapped their heads to the side to look at the door at the same moment, their mouths separating with a popping noise that would probably have made him ashamed in other circumstances. The scream had been one of agony, of someone _dying_ – he had heard enough people dying to know.

Haymitch’s heart was racing in his chest, his lips were still tingling from all the kissing. 

“You _ain’t_ the succubus.” he stated – just to be sure.

She huffed and shoved at his chest but she wasn’t very strong and it wasn’t enough to make him move. Not when her legs remained locked around his waist anyway. “You thought I was _a sex demon?_ ”

Which, as it was becoming obvious, she really _wasn’t_.

But she was well-informed. That, however, was a problem for later.

“ _Shit_.” he spat, moving away from her. “Stay here. Lock the door. I’m gonna come back for you when it’s safe.”

“Why don’t you have any weapon in your classroom!” she half-asked, half-complained, going back to rummaging through the drawer of his desk.

“Cupboard!” he shouted over his shoulder, already taking off at a run.

He wasn’t sure where the scream had come from so he picked a direction a little at random, listening hard for any noise, hoping it wasn’t _Peeta_ who had fallen down.

He patted  the back of his jeans, remembering the phone a moment too late but he couldn’t find it. Had Trinket groped him? Had it fallen down? He couldn’t remember. The whole thing had been so… He was reluctant to use the word _passionate_. And yet… If she wasn’t a sex demon, she certainly had good moves.

Switching the lights on in his classroom had been a bad idea, his eyes were having troubles getting accustomed to the dark again. It was probably why he tripped over the dead janitor and landed face first in a puddle of blood. He scrambled back, staring at the man whose chest had been ripped apart and the deep hole where the heart should have been. It was messy, just as messy as Woof’s crime scene had been, and the bile rose at the back of his throat. The man’s pants were also down to his knees but Haymitch wasn’t sure this one had died _that_ happy.

Had they rushed the succubus? Did she know they were hunting her?

He got back to his feet with difficulties because the floor was slippery and looked for the hunting knife he kept at the small of his back.

That was when he heard the sobs.

He didn’t have to look far. Felindra Tigris was huddled between two row of lockers, curled up in a tight frightened ball, tears running down her cheeks.

“Tigris?” he whispered.

She looked up, her face one of pure relief mixed with terror.

“Haymitch!” she exclaimed in a rough voice. How long had she been crying? “Haymitch, there was a… I know it’s _crazy_ but there was a _monster_. It ate him. It…”

She was working herself in a panic and Haymitch crouched next to her, rubbing her arms. “It’s alright. I believe you. Where did it go?”

Footsteps noises from around the corridor’s corner answered that question. Only one person and far more heavy than his Slayer could be. It _wasn’t_ Katniss nor Peeta.

“Come on. We need to move.” he ordered, hauling the poor trembling woman to her feet.

“The Biology classroom…” she whispered, clinging to his arm. “It’s in the next corridor…”

“Yeah. Okay. Good.” he agreed and dragged her in that direction.

Although given the way she was gripping his arm, there were little chances of her running toward danger anyway. She looked so frail, so fragile… Someone like her would have zero chance against a demon. He felt _compelled_ to help her.

They rushed into the Biology classroom and he closed the door softly, pressing his face against the small window in the middle so he could see outside. It was too dark and the plexiglass was too thick in any case.

“I need to go back out there and find this thing.” he told her without looking back. “Just lock the door and…”

“No, you need to help me.” Tigris objected, still clinging to his arm. Her nails were digging sharply into his flesh.

“I’m _trying_ to.” he scowled. “Look…”

“I’m so hungry, Haymitch…” she hissed. “You have to help me.”

A chill ran down his spine.

He looked down at the small woman with her mane of red hair and felt his stomach coil in dread. Was it his imagination or did her eyes look split, like a cat?

“Tigris…” he said, a little warningly.

He felt around the small of his back for his knife but it was too late.

Strong hands had grabbed his face and had pulled him into a kiss.

°O°O°O°O°O°

The door to Haymitch’s classroom was open and Katniss barged in without hesitation, ready to let her arrows fly on the first thing that moved. The light threw her for a second because she had grown used to the corridor’s darkness but it wouldn’t stop her getting her stupid mentor to safety.

The problem was nothing was moving inside the classroom.

It was empty.

A wave of panic came over her and she froze.

Peeta came sprinting in right after her and almost collided with her. 

“He said _his classroom._ ” she breathed out. “He said…”

He had been there. The cupboard in which he kept the emergency weapons was open, the padlock was broken on the floor. He had probably tried to get something heavy to defend himself… The knife mustn’t have cut it…

Peeta immediately grabbed the phone out of his pocket. “Haymitch?”

Peeta’s distorted voice came out from near the teacher’s desk. They looked at each other and she knew they were both wondering the same thing: was the desk enough to hide a body?

Katniss couldn’t move.

She was the Slayer. It was her job, her _duty,_ to go check if he was lying there, if the demon was still there… It was her duty but the thought of _Haymitch_ dead on the floor with a missing heart…

He was a grumpy, nasty old drunk but his heart… His heart was so big it would have been far too cruel to have a demon rip it out. She had only known him for a month and already her life had taken a drastic turn – and, _sure_ , she could have done without the vampires but he had made it a lot easier for her to take care of Prim. He gave her money for groceries, he had found a doctor for her mother, he had sorted the bills for her… She had never thanked him for his help or even told him how grateful she was for any of it. She had kept up the pretence that he did those things to compensate her Slayer activities because any other explanation involved too many complications.

You got attached to people and they died or became catatonic…

“Katniss.”

Peeta’s  voice cut in through her sudden panic and she jerked her head to look at him, realizing only belatedly that she was on the verge of fainting because she was holding her breath. Her eyes were blurry and she blinked…

“I’ll go look.” he told her, in a tone that wasn’t as confident as he probably wanted it to be. “Get ready. In case…”

In case there was a feasting succubus waiting to jump on them.

She nodded once and wiped her eyes with a sweep of her arm. Then she got into position, training her arrow at the desk. Peeta crept toward it carefully, the knife Haymitch had given him awkwardly clutched into his hand. He was holding it wrong and she told herself she would teach him if they ever got out of there in one piece.

He was pale and probably as scared as she felt when he finally reached the desk. Suddenly, though, the tension left his body. “He’s not here. There’s no one here.”

Katniss breathed out in relief and joined him in a couple of quick strides. Her eyes spotted the stake on the floor but it was Peeta who found the phone with its split screen. It must have fallen from his pocket.

“He made it out.” she deduced, turning from the desk to the weapons cupboard.

“There’s no blood.” he said. “So he’s not injured or anything. That’s good.”

“Then, why did he scream like that?” she retorted. “You don’t scream like that unless you’re dying. And he was in there with her.”

A sword was missing from the cupboard. She knew for sure because Haymitch had made her memorize the contents of the classroom’s ‘armory’ in case she ever needed it. It was modest compared to the arsenal he kept at home but he insisted it was better to have a stash of weapons in different locations because you never knew when you might need one.

She grabbed a cutlass. She was still hoping the arrows would do the trick but a cutlass was bigger than a knife and she didn’t want to go _that_ close to a sex demon anyway.

“Maybe it wasn’t him…” Peeta suggested. “There are other people here… The cars in the parking lot…”

Maybe. She wasn’t sure. She had heard a man shout and she had panicked. And now Haymitch was missing as well as a sword and an Art teacher and it didn’t bode well either way.

“Grab that axe.” she told Peeta, nodding at the only big weapon left in the cupboard. “I’m going to kill this demon.”

They were just exiting the classroom to search for more clues when they heard the crash. Katniss ran straight toward the noise. A few corridors away, she narrowly missed slipping into the puddle of blood.

“Guess it _wasn’t_ Haymitch.” Peeta commented with relief, grabbing her arm to steady her.

She recognized the uniform more than the man. The janitor. His chest was cracked open and the stench was enough to make her eyes watery again. She swallowed back the bile and bumped into Peeta’s shoulder to make him stop staring in morbid fascination. Even in the dark, she could tell his face was clammy and he was fighting the same nausea she was.

A pained cry echoed from the next corridor.

“ _This_ was Haymitch.” she growled and took off again.

Trinket was dead, she vowed.

°O°O°O°O°O°

Haymitch managed to get his knife from the small of his back and kissed the demon harder, hoping to distract her enough that she wouldn’t notice the blade he was holding behind _her_ back. He tried to get the angle right. If he got the angle right…

“Drop it, Haymitch.” the woman purred, her cattish eyes shining a soft yellow in the darkness. “You don’t want to hurt me.”

He really, _really_ wanted to hurt her. 

And yet his fingers loosened their grip around the handle of the knife. He fought it, fought the soothing voice in his head that was telling him everything was fine, fought the lie… But he couldn’t resist it anymore than he usually could resist the lure of liquor.

She kissed him again, steered him away from the door and to the lab bench… He tried to resist, tried to call for help…

“Shh…” Tigris whispered before he could form a sound. “You don’t want to struggle, Haymitch. You want to help me. You want _me_. It will be over before you know it. Pleasure like you cannot imagine and then… oblivion.”

He wasn’t sure how he ended up on his back on top of one of the lab benches, he was barely aware of her ripping his shirt open.

“I’m sorry, this will have to be quick…” she continued. “But you will still enjoy it, I promise. You want me after all, don’t you? And you want to help me. I am so hungry…”

Her nails left a scratch down his chest but he was far beyond protesting now. Everything she would give, he would take. Everything she wanted, he would give.

“You will do just fine.” she grinned. He caught a glimpse of teeth. Except they were not teeth but _fangs_. “You…”

The door crashed down.

Tigris looked up with a hiss, her face not at all the one he had grown used to in the last month. Her features had grown pointier, a soft fur covered her body, the mane of hair had become a real mane and there was a tail flicking the air behind her. And, of course, there were the fangs and the claws and the terrible fact that five of those claws were hooked around Haymitch’s belt.

He had been expecting Katniss’ great entrance.

It wasn’t Katniss.

“My apologies but if anyone is going to rip his heart off tonight, I believe I was here _first_.” Effie Trinket declared very seriously and Haymitch couldn’t decide if he was hallucinating or not because she was standing there with a sword in her left hand and a fireball in her right one and _that_ …

He was already hard. Demonic pheromones and what not. But if he hadn’t been, he was pretty sure that sight alone might have done it.

The fireball caught the demon on the side and flung her away from him. It must have severed whatever form of control Tigris had pulled on him too because he felt like himself again and he rolled off the lab bench to get out of the line of fire.

“So what?” he scoffed. “You’re a _witch_ now?”

Could she pick one and stick to it? Council spy, demon, re-Council spy, and now witch? He hated it when puzzles resisted him. It annoyed him. And it annoyed him even more that he had never known how to ignore one. That woman _was_ puzzling.

“I dabble.” she said in a modest tone, as if they weren’t in the middle of a fight. 

“ _I_ dabble.” he muttered. And he _sucked_ at it. Anything involving magic, he usually preferred to call an expert and only did it himself if he had no other choice – and he stuck to _reading_ spells. He had no talent for magic, very little power and certainly none of the smoothness she was demonstrating. “That’s not dabbling.”

He tried to haul himself up by using a table and winced when she grabbed  his arm to help him. He decided he was getting far too old to get his ass kicked by a demon. It had been a lot more thrilling when he had been young. 

“Are you hurt?” she worried, her eyes flickering between him and something behind him. “ _Duck_!”

He ducked without question and he had been right to do so because she swung the sword without much coordination in a deadly half-circle. Behind him, he heard the demon hiss and he immediately got back on his feet, snatching the blade from her hand.

“Do you even know how to use that?” he snapped. Tigris looked enraged now that Trinket had opened a shallow cut on her collarbone and he didn’t like the way she was watching him at all. She still wanted him to be dinner alright. “Sorry, you’re not really my type. Wouldn’t have worked out.”

He had expected the demon to leap and he reacted immediately by lifting the sword. The impact was more brutal than he had calculated though and he ended up falling on his back, the blade knocked off his hand. He rolled with it, intending to use the momentum to kick her off him.

All fight deserted him when she purred.

He couldn’t remember why he wanted to hurt her. He shouldn’t… She was… She was _everything_ _he wanted_ and…

Claws dug into his chest and he shouted in pain.

Tigris was projected off him and against the wall again.

Trinket was panting as if she had run a marathon but there was another fireball ready in her right hand.

“Magic will not kill her.” she warned.

Magic wouldn’t kill her and he couldn’t go anywhere near her without feeling the need to lie down and let her have some fun and a nice meal. Being a good demon hunter – and a good Watcher – was knowing when you needed to retreat. Because demon hunters who didn’t know when to admit they had bitten more than they could chew always ended up _dead_. A good demon hunter was one who _survived_.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain and the blood freely trickling down his chest, and grabbed Trinket’s wrist. “Run.”

It was a command, not to be discussed, but she resisted when he tried to pull her away. He looked back to see what the hold-up was and saw the sword he had lost flying through the air toward the demon. It stabbed her in the shoulder and pinned her to the wall. Next thing he knew frost was crusting over the demon’s weird-shaped paws and up her legs…

Trinket let out a deep breath and swayed a little.

“It won’t hold her long.” she warned, finally letting him tug her into the corridor. “But it should give us a head sta…”

Her sentence ended in a yelp when he used the grip he had on her wrist to push her behind him, shielding her with his body. He wasn’t sure what had made him do that until he found himself face to face with the business end of an arrow.

“No!” he shouted. “She’s with us.”

“She’s a demon.” Katniss growled.

“Turns out she’s a witch, after all.” he replied, trying to assess his Slayer’s condition in the dark. Peeta was standing a foot behind her, gripping the hilt of an axe, and looked okay enough. The girl didn’t look any worse.

“I _dabble_.” Trinket insisted. “And can we discuss this once…”

The wall burst.

Between the moment the wall exploded and the moment he landed against the opposite one, he only had one thought: they needed to get the hell out of there before Heavensbee showed up because he _wasn’t_ explaining that one.

°O°O°O°O°

The wall right next to Haymitch and Trinket burst. Haymitch was projected against the opposite wall amongst a sea of dust and flying pieces of concrete but Katniss lost sight of Trinket in the flying debris.

She couldn’t, however, miss the huge cat-like demon right in front of her.

Behind her, Peeta let out a curse.

“Get back.” she ordered. She didn’t want him to get hurt.

She let loose three successive arrows and while they all found a mark, they didn’t seem to do much good either. The demon screeched a high-pitched scream that made her wince.

Haymitch was slowly getting on all four but he didn’t look like he was getting back to his feet any time soon.

She shot more arrows, stepping back to get more range, forcing Peeta to step back too, hoping she would at least annoy the demon into following her… But the demon’s feral yellow eyes were riveted on Haymitch who didn’t even look _aware_ of the danger he was in. It was bleeding and clearly wounded but its hunger was greater than its pain. That, or it didn’t consider them dangerous.

She was about to toss the bow and risk taking her chance with the cutlass when Trinket crawled out from under the collapsed wall, coughing dust. She looked up and their eyes met, then the woman looked at the demon’s slow but steady advance toward Haymitch and her face hardened.

“Keep shooting.” Trinket ordered with the same authority Haymitch always used when she was facing a particularly difficult vampire.

In the same moment, the bow seemed to _hum_ under her hand. The next arrow she let loose was on fire, it left a trail of light in the dark. And so did the next. And the next. The demon finally seemed to notice her and turned away from Haymitch to march toward her, forcing her to step back even more.

“Katniss…” Peeta warned behind her. She knew what he meant. If it jumped, it would be on them in seconds and there would be no time to retreat.

“Get _back_.” she ordered again.

“I’m  not leaving you!” Peeta foolishly proclaimed. 

And he _wouldn’t_. She _knew_ he wouldn’t. If he ever were to abandon her, he would have done it a lot earlier than _now_. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that because in her experience, everyone _always_ left.

And _she_ needed to make sure he would stay safe. “Find a switch! I need to see what I’m doing!”

If she had to get her hands dirty, she wanted to see what she hit.

Meanwhile, Trinket had dragged herself up.

“Light. Yes.” the woman murmured.

Katniss barely heard her under the demon’s pained screeches. Next thing she knew, the corridor was _flooded_ with light. It blinded her for a second and it was enough for the demon to take advantage of that. The succubus crouched, ready to pounce, only to let out a roar when frost crept over it, trapping it in a carcass of ice.

Trinket’s nose was bleeding and her clothes were torn in places. She outstretched a hand and Peeta’s axe flew right past Katniss. For a second, she thought her friend had _tossed_ it but it soon became obvious that it was the witch’s doing. The woman’s fingers had closed around the hilt.

 _Creepy_.

Were witches on a Slayer’s killing list? It felt like they ought to be.

Too late to wonder though.

The ice prison exploded, sending shards everywhere.

“Take cover!” Katniss shouted at Peeta, shooting two burning arrows while the succubus leapt, only to drop the bow and grab the cutlass right before it reached her. She rolled to the side, avoiding the claws aimed at her throat and her face.

She was aware that instead of obeying her, Peeta had rushed over to help Haymitch back to his feet, her mentor seemed to be unable to do it by himself. His shirt was torn open and there were deep gashes on his chest. Since that brought her friend away from the fight though she didn’t insist and focused on the succubus instead.

She was about to attack when it roared and the already burning tail flew off, half severed from the rest of the body by the axe Trinket had stuck in it. The woman hastily stumbled back toward the wall and didn’t try to get the weapon back.

Katniss didn’t let the occasion pass. She darted left and then right when it tried to grab her and stuck the cutlass into the demon’s neck. She dug it in until she felt bones and only let go once the succubus collapsed.

She stood there, out of breath, staring down at the unmoving _thing_ on the floor.

“Is it dead?” she asked eventually.

“Kick it. If it moves, _finish_ it.” Haymitch grumbled, hopping closer. He was half-leaning on Peeta’s shoulder but let go to grab the wall Trinket was propped against.

“It is dead.” Trinket professed.

Katniss still kicked it.

It didn’t move.

“It’s dead.” she confirmed.

“We need to  get you to the hospital.” Peeta declared and Katniss was about to protest – because this time she hadn’t dislocated her shoulder or bruised her ribs or even suffered from smoke intoxication – but realized that he wasn’t talking to _her_.

“I’m fine.” Haymitch obviously lied.

The gashes on his chest looked deep.

“You _don’t_ look fine.” he snapped. “You look like someone tried to claw your heart out. How _close_ was it?”

“Tell you what, next time there is a sex demon on the loose, you can be bait.” her Watcher retorted, maybe a little vexed.

“Perhaps try to find the right culprit next time.” Trinket huffed. “I _truly_ expected better from you.”

“Perhaps don’t go ferreting in my classroom next time.” Haymitch retorted. “You’d look less guilty.”

Trinket glared at him but it lacked heat. She was leaning against that wall just as heavily as Haymitch was. She was pale, her forehead was clammy and her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet.

Katniss remembered the flaming arrows and the flying axe and couldn’t find it in her to have much compassion even though the woman had helped defeat the succubus. They would have managed without her and magic looked on the same frightening scale as vampires and demons to her.

“What do we do with her?” she asked. Haymitch and Peeta both contemplated the dead demon with expectancy, as if waiting for it to turn to dust. It didn’t. “No.” She rolled her eyes. “I meant _her_.” She nodded at Trinket who suddenly looked offended.

“You are just as rude as your Watcher.” the woman huffed.

Katniss’ gaze darted to Haymitch, not sure if it was expected that the Art teacher knew who they were because she was a witch or…

“Are witches evil?” she insisted.

“Some are. Some are not.” Trinket answered before he could. “But as I _repeatedly_ tried to make you understand, I am _not_ a witch, I _simply_ dabble in defensive magic. I never _quite_ liked being powerless.”

“That wasn’t _only_ defensive.” Haymitch argued. Katniss discreetly reached for her knife but he shook his head no once, just as discreetly, so she dropped the idea of simply stabbing her and be done with the whole _witch_ thing. “And if you ain’t a witch, who _are_ you? Cause you won’t make me believe you’re just an Art teacher, sweetheart. You play the axe a little too well.”

Trinket stared at him with exhausted eyes. “Axes and swords were never my _forte_ unfortunately. I suppose I can handle my own with a stake and I can shoot a crossbow although nowhere near as well as your Slayer.” She sighed. “I can also quote the Slayer’s handbook, if that would help, you seem to be in _serious_ need of being reminded how things are supposed to be done.”

“Watcher.” he spat almost like an insult.

Katniss frowned. “So she’s a spy after all?”

She wasn’t sure why the Council of Watchers would need to spy on them but Haymitch had expressed doubts and mistrust about it and that was good enough for her.

“Why was the boy tagging along with your Slayer? The rules are very clear…” Trinket asked and then shook her head. “No matter. We should leave while we can.”

“We still can’t leave the dead beastie lying here.” Katniss countered.

“Do you want to bet the police is going to say it was a wild animal?” Peeta snorted. “How else are they going to explain it?”

Trinket wriggled her fingers and the corpse burst into green flames. They all took a hasty step back.

“Okay, that wasn’t smart.” Haymitch remarked.

“Wasn’t it?” Trinket whispered, looking even paler than earlier.

“You overdid it.” he berated, genuine anger in his voice. “What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?”

“I saved your life three times tonight, A little more gratefulness would be appreciated.” she deadpanned.

Then the light she had conjured earlier abruptly disappeared and they were left with the quickly fading magical fire for only source of light. Haymitch cursed and grabbed the woman before she could fall.

“Peeta, help me.” he demanded.

The Art teacher hadn’t completely fainted but she looked close enough to unconscious. She didn’t even protest when Peeta picked her up.

“I wasn’t done asking her questions.” Katniss grumbled.

“Questions can wait until tomorrow.” Haymitch decided. “She saved my life, she gets an out of jail card for tonight.” He pushed himself off the wall and squeezed Katniss’ shoulder. “Good job, sweetheart.”

She made a face. “I wasn’t quick enough to save the janitor.”

“You can’t save everyone.” he said flatly. “Don’t obsess over it or it’s gonna drive you mad. You did what you could.”

“I could have done better.” she argued.

If she had had more training, if she had kept a cooler head, if…

He shrugged. “Then, next time, you do better.”

Next time, she’d not let people die on her watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Haymitch didn't get kicked in the groin and Effie isn't the demon after all (as many of you had guessed). What did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? Was Effie a little badass or what? Poor Katniss thought she had lost her mentor... Is Peeta a useful sidekick? Will Haymitch eventually manage to kick a demon's ass or is his reputation overrated? Are you looking forward to the discussion between Effie and Haymitch? 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

The hotel door opened on his third knock.

Haymitch looked at the woman up and down, not quite impressed by what he saw. She still looked pale and not quite steady on her feet. Magical hangovers did that to a person, he supposed. It didn’t stop her from looking hot though and that was a problem because it wouldn’t help him _not_ remember the heated exchange in his classroom. The short pink skirt and the striped black and purple blouse with its big collar was a little ridiculous but he had the feeling it also cost more than his house. It also showed off her legs.

“So what was the plan?” he mocked. “Blending in by not wearing the tweed uniform?”

All the people at the Watcher academy used to wear tweed. Not that he had stayed there for very long. Not his scene at all.

She pursed her lips with obvious displeasure but stepped aside to let him in. It was the first time he entered _The Capitol’_ s penthouse and he looked around curiously. It was all see-through furniture and expensive appliance…

“As far as spies go, you’re lousy.” he continued. “Figured your game out the moment I met you.”

“And yet there you went thinking I was a succubus.” she deadpanned. “Imagine that.”

He shot her an amused look, unable to suppress his smirk. He didn’t need to say that maybe he wouldn’t have mistaken her for a sex demon if she hadn’t looked so _fucking_ hot. First because it was too much of a compliment and then because it was probably written all over his face.

She looked a little amused herself.

“I do not know if I should be flattered or offended, to be honest.” she added, gesturing at him to take a seat. The living-room part of the suit was nice enough if a little impersonal – but then again _The Capitol_ was a hotel, he wasn’t expecting _personality_ – there were two white leather couches, a big flat tv screen and bay windows that offered an open view of the meadow.

He didn’t take a seat. He placed his helmet on a small table, almost knocking off a vase, and slowly made his way to the liquor cart in the corner. He poured himself a drink without asking first or waiting for her to offer – and given her obsession for manners, she would probably have offered anyway but it was all about taking the upper hand here. Establishing who was in charge. The hotel had the good stuff, he decided when he inspected the bottle of whiskey, that wouldn’t hurt.

“Why, _please_ , make yourself at home.” she huffed. “Your rudeness knows _no_ bound.”

“Bold of you to settle here.” he commented, bringing his glass of whiskey to the window. He stood there and surveyed the meadow, his grey eyes eventually stopping on the dark silhouette of the burned tree in the distance. “You _do_ know there’s a Hellmouth in your backyard, yeah?”

“I thought it might be useful to keep a close eye on it.” she sighed. “And I did not know if I would be staying long enough to make the hassle of searching for a house worth it.”

“Thought it was me you were keeping a close eye on?” he challenged, turning back to face her. “Or is it my Slayer that the Council’s spying on? Always hard to keep track with them.”

She took a seat on the armrest of the couch. It made her skirt ride higher and he wasn’t sure it was entirely accidental. She was distracting and he had a feeling she knew how to turn that to her advantage.

“I was not sent here to _spy_.” she argued. “I was sent here to _observe.”_

“Potayto. Potahto.” he taunted. “You got scolded for getting caught?”

“President Coin was not pleased.” she admitted and _she_ didn’t sound pleased either.

“I bet.” he snorted, taking a sip of whiskey. “That woman’s a _bitch_.”

“Mind your language, would you?” she chided, lips pursed. “We came to the agreement that sooner or later I would have _had_ to reveal myself to you, either way. She certainly would have liked me to… _observe_ a little more but…”

“What do you want?” he snapped. “Cause I didn’t ask to be called to play Watcher again. Coin contacted me. She _dragged_ me back. Every _fucking_ time she drags me back. So now what? You’re worried I won’t do my job right?”

She looked a little hesitant and lowered her eyes.

“There were concerns.” she confessed. “There are a lot of… _rumors_ about your fondness for liquor and you _did_ send a few letters of resignation before…”

“They were ignored every time.” he pointed out.

“Because you are _the best_.” she retorted, looking back up and straight at him. She held his eyes for a moment. Tension built in the room. Mostly because she sounded genuine and he was torn between accepting a recognition that was his due and his personal disillusion about the whole thing. The Council’s approval meant nothing. It was corrupted and was only interested in its Slayers so far as they were obedient. He had learned that the hard way.

“Careful, sweetheart…” he said slowly, taking another sip of his whiskey. “I’m gonna start thinking you have a crush on me or something…”

She barely batted an eyelash.

“You are a _legend_ for the rest of us, Haymitch, like it or not.” she retorted. “One of the youngest Watcher _ever_ appointed to a Slayer… Your girls vanquished some of the oldest demons and that is without mentioning _your_ _own_ past exploits… You have one of the _highest_ surviving rate when it comes to Slayers…”

“Tell that to Annie Cresta.” he spat, turning his back on her.

The sun was setting over the woods, bathing the meadow in reddish hues. His eyes went back to the tree in the distance again. He hated that tree. He hated that meadow. He hated _The_ _Capitol_. He hated the fact that his Slayers always died.

“The Cresta situation was unfortunate.” she admitted. “Nevertheless…”

“Why did the Council ship me here if they have concerns?” he cut her off. “Coin knew I was a drunk way before Katniss was even called.”

There was a long silence behind him. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to figure out what to say and what to hold out – because he was _certain_ the Council was sitting on some information – or if she was thinking about _how_ to deliver the information he probably didn’t want to hear.

“Because three Slayers have been called in The Seam before Katniss and you were involved with the three of them.” she finally answered. “Because you know the town and a Watcher’s duties _better_ than anyone. And because…” There was a franc note of hesitation, then. “There is _no_ easy way to say this, Haymitch.”

“Cut the flattery crap and get to the point, then.” he advised, leaning a hand against the glass.

He already knew what she was going to say, of course. Cashmere had hinted at it and there was this feeling of dread in his guts, a feeling that had never gone away in twenty years.

“The vampire you were trying to identify… Cashmere.” Trinket said. “She is part of a group of four vampires who call themselves the Careers. They are old. Roman empire old. They used to be gladiators.”

“Never heard of them before.” he commented. He was a little surprised

“You wouldn’t have. They have been diligent in avoiding dealings with Slayers or the Council. They broke ties around fifty years ago, around the time Snow started getting obsessed with Slayers, and flew under the radar until they reformed a decade or so ago.” she explained. “They are… highly dangerous.”

“We killed Cashmere.” he pointed out. But if the vampire had really been _that_ old, they had been _lucky_. No wonder he hadn’t found any clue in the Watcher journals though… He hadn’t been looking far enough.

“And that is very commendable, however that leaves you with Cashmere’s brother and two other dangerous vampires who will probably want revenge.” she replied. “There is something else. They were sired…”

“By Snow.” he finished for her, tired of beating around the bush. It wasn’t a huge leap to make. Roman empire… That was when Snow had been at the apex of his power and he had always had a thing for gladiators. Arenas, deadly games… That had been his trademark. “And they want to free him from the hell dimension he’s trapped in.”

“You will understand why the Council is concerned. You are the expert on Snow but President Coin is also aware of _just_ how personal it could become for you. It is common knowledge you would have preferred the vampire slain instead of merely imprisoned.” she added. Then her voice softened. “I am sorry.”

“Why?” he snorted. “’Cause they need me but don’t trust me or cause someone wants to release the demon who destroyed my life?” It wasn’t a real question and he didn’t leave her time to answer it. “So what happens now? You become Katniss’ Watcher and I become a consultant?”

That might be fun to watch. Mostly because Katniss would snort a big fat _no_ if she didn’t kick her ass first. He had spent half the day trying to convince her that witches weren’t evil unless they started killing people or unleashing demons upon the world – which he was relatively confident Trinket wouldn’t do. She was more Glinda than Baba-Yaga.

“I am to continue observing and to lend my expertise if needed.” she offered.

He turned to face her, a little surprised. “Why?”

“Because, believe it or not, I completed my Watcher training and passed with flying colors.” she deadpanned. “I have _outstanding_ managing skills and I _excel_ at research. And this _without_ mentioning my dabbling in defensive magic. I can be useful to you and your Slayer.”

He was certain she had misunderstood the question on purpose and he wasn’t going to let her get off the hook so easily.

“Why didn’t you tell Coin you’d do a better job at being a Watcher than me?” he insisted. Knowing Alma, he was pretty sure that she must have asked Trinket’s opinion on the matter.

She studied him for a long time, her hands clasped in her lap like an exemplary little girl, her legs crossed at the ankles.

“I told you. You are a _legend_ for the rest of us.” she answered eventually if a little too flatly. “I look forward to working with you.” He opened his mouth to order her to cut the crap once more but she was quicker than he was and her voice was softer. “Mags told me a lot about you.”

His heartbeat increased a little. “Mags.”

“She taught one of my classes at the academy.” she explained. “We remained friends.”

“Did she send you here?” he asked. He finally walked away from the window to take a seat on the couch opposite hers.

That was something Mags would have done. Not challenge the Council outright but remain one move ahead. Control the chessboard, let the opponent think they had the upper hand…

“I honestly do not know.” Trinket offered. “There were other people with more seniority and more experience who would have been more suitable to the task and I never go the feeling President Coin particularly liked me so I was the first surprised to be appointed for this mission…”

It _could_ be Mags. That was something she might do… Knowing someone would be sent to spy on him either way… She would insist to place someone who was loyal to her. To help him. To protect him. Was that stroke even really a stroke? Had she upset the power in place too much? Coin didn’t like her authority to be threatened…

Did she know she was in danger? Was _he_ in danger? Power play inside the Council had never been his scene. He preferred to stay as far away from that snakes pit as he could be…

If she _had_ sent Trinket though…

 “I _am_ an ambitious person, Haymitch, and I make _no_ apologies for it, make no mistake. I would love to get assigned a Slayer and, after seeing her fight, I believe that with some discipline, Katniss will be a _great_ Slayer…” the woman declared before he could get it into his head that she was entirely disinterested. “It would have been a honor to be her Watcher.”

“You could have had her.” he pointed out. “All you had to do was tell Coin I wasn’t up to do the job.”

She swallowed hard and averted her eyes. “The last time I saw her, a couple of weeks ago, Mags said… She said that you were a good man and that you would need _help_ soon and I find… I find I _am_ willing to help if you are agreeable.” She glanced at him and away again, embarrassment flushing on her face. “You will think it flattery again but I _do_ admire your work.” She paused for a second and then she was smiling one of those polite distant smiles again. “Of course, I was disappointed to find you are rude, a little too sarcastic for my taste and not as handsome as they say but legends often do _not_ hold to reality... This being said, it would be a _privilege_ to work with you. I am _certain_ I would learn a lot and, who knows, I might even teach you a few new tricks too.”

That formulation of new tricks she might teach him had his mind crashing straight into the gutter. The way she used her tongue in a kiss…

He pressed the rim of his glass against his mouth, studying her just as intensely as she was studying him. “Not as handsome as they say?”

When she looked at him, this time, her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Well, I would not have mistaken _you_ for a sex demon. Tell me, has no one _ever_ introduced you to a razor before? I am surprised they would let you teach into a school when you look like a hobo. _Shabby_ simply _isn’t_ in style.”

“Didn’t hear you complain when you were sitting on my desk, _Princess_.” he countered.

“We are _never_ talking about that again.” she informed him haughtily. She stood up and crossed the room to the liquor cart to pour herself a glass of wine. “You jumped on me. _How inappropriate_. You should consider yourself lucky I did not simply _knee_ you. It would have been deserved.”

She clucked her tongue as if she was scolding an unrepentant kid.

“I was trying to get you to turn into a demon. What’s _your_ excuse?” he chuckled. “You know… Seeing as I’m not as handsome as they say.”

“A _small_ case of hero worship that vanished _as soon_ as I met you.” She grinned and came back to sit on the opposite couch. She smoothed creases off her skirt with her free hand. “What will it be, then? Are we to be friends or enemies?”

He took another mouthful of whiskey just to delay his answer and then slouched a little against the back of the couch. He studied her. The way she moved, the way she held herself, the way she kept doing a visual sweep of her surroundings as if looking for a threat…“You were a Potential.”

He wasn’t _entirely_ sure. He _was_ certain that there was no Watcher family named Trinket and the job tended to be inherited regardless of personal ambitions. To each their legacies. It wasn’t entirely unheard of for a former Potential to be hired by the Council as a freelance agent or, if they were more scholar than demon hunter, trained as a Watcher, though. Assuming they had a Watcher willing to vouch for them.

A lot of resources were devoted to finding potential Slayers. It involved magic, astrology, far too many spells, deals with oracles and various minor demons… An entire department of the Council was devoted to it and they still didn’t always get it right. Haymitch had always found it a little stupid, mainly because fate wasn’t something that could entirely be predicted. So sure, once in a while, a girl was called and that girl was a Potential so she was more equipped than most to deal with the burden… But for one Potential who turned into the Slayer, there were dozens of others from the same generation left without nothing. They were taken away from their family to be handed to people who often lacked the parental strike and who trained them to be soldiers and little else, some as young as babies. And there were expectations, of course. A Potential who was called was the Council’s champion. A rogue, like Katniss and each of Haymitch’s Slayers, never really _belonged_ – which suited him just fine because _he_ had never really belonged to the Council either. He was the American anomaly to their world empire of tweed and tea.

“That’s personal.” she snapped.

And that was an answer in itself, wasn’t it?

“How much do _you_ know about _my_ life?”  he snorted.

It was a rhetorical question.

All the Watchers knew every little detail of his personal tragedies. They were public knowledge. They were written black on white in seven separate Watcher journals.

She took a sip of her white wine with composed grace. She was used to having her every move watched and scrutinized, he decided, but she didn’t have the sharpened edge of a seasoned warrior. She couldn’t have been a very promising Potential. She lacked the taste for violence. He wouldn’t have said she was _soft_ but…

“If Maysilee Donner hadn’t been called, I might have been.” she offered. “Perhaps you would have been my Watcher, then.”

That would have been a nice disaster in the making.

And improbable. The only reason they had sent him back to the Seam to mentor Maysilee was because he knew the town and he knew Snow. He had just finished passing their useless exams when he had been appointed the first time. By Coin herself.

“You’d be very dead by now.” he pointed out.

And without Maysilee, who knew if Snow would even have been stopped? Fate was a bitch and he had no faith in it half the time but… Sometimes it got things _right_.

He tried to imagine a teenage Effie Trinket battling the worst evil the Earth had ever known and he couldn’t picture it. When he tried, all he could see was a blond doll with a delicious pout and a lack of talent to handle a stake. He hadn’t been attracted to Maysilee despite their small age difference and he had still been grieving Mabel at the time. Given how much she affected him, he wasn’t sure he would have had the same restrain with Trinket.

What a mess it would have been…

“Don’t be sorry it wasn’t you.” he spat, a little bitterly.

“It would have been an _honor_ to be called.” she retorted a little too aggressively. She washed that out with a mouthful of wine and flashed him a bright cheerful smile that was in total contrast with the anger she had just displayed. “Being the Slayer is a _sacred_ duty.”

There was bitterness and anger in her voice but no regret. Maybe she wasn’t as stupid as she looked.

“Being called is a curse, not a gift.” he objected, sounding exhausted to his own ears. “So… How do you get from being Potential to being a Watcher witch?”

“I am _not_ a witch.” She gritted her teeth but kept on smiling. “And I would _appreciate_ it if you would not mention the display from yesterday to anyone.”

“Ah…” He smirked. “They don’t know you’re _that_ powerful… Explains it. Never heard of a woman Watcher with real magical powers before… They usually ship those to wiccan covens… Ever noticed men don’t get the same treatment ? Though the Watcher club doesn’t really like parity, yeah?”

“You are a man.” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “I’m an American, that’s worse in their book.”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head but she was fighting a smile, as if she wasn’t sure if she was annoyed with him or amused. After a second, she offered an explanation. “My mother practices. I only inherited _a fragment_ of her power, I _really_ am not as powerful as you seem to think.”

He wasn’t sure if she was playing at being modest or if she really wasn’t that confident in her own power. What he had seen when they had been fighting that succubus told him she had a lot of potential to grow though.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” he reminded her, finishing his glass of whiskey. “How do you go from Potential to Watchet? Why not become a freelance demon hunter?”

It must have reminded her she was still holding her glass of wine because she drank some more and then placed it down on the glass coffee table.

“Suffice for you to know I was never really good at physical encounters.” she told him.

“Doubt _that_.” he mocked.

She narrowed her eyes and shot him an irritated glare but left the double meaning unaddressed. “I would have made a pitiful Slayer. I have the training but I never really developed a talent for handling weapons. Magic comes more naturally to me.” She stood up and he stared at her with lifted eyebrows, his lips stretching into a smirk that she answered by pursing her lips and placing her hands on her hips. “I am sure you are anxious to get back to your Slayer…”

Which was a polite way to say he had overstayed his welcome.

“I gave her the night off.” he answered.

He was half-tempted to remain right where he was just to see how much he could push her but there had been enough information for the night. His head was aching with them. He stood up too, a little slowly because the wounds on his chest bothered him, and reached for the helmet he had placed on one of the small tables.

He tapped his fingers on it twice without picking it up.

“Finnick ain’t calling me back.” he said casually.

“The doctors are very optimistic as far as I know.” she offered, her voice softening again. Mags had that effect on people. “As for Finnick… I believe he is angry with you.”

“Thought he had cut ties with the Council.” he remarked.

“With the Council, yes. With Mags, never. And we are good enough friends. I tutored him when he was still at the academy.” she sighed. “If I learn anything more about her condition, I will let you know.”

“Thanks.” he nodded.

He didn’t look at her.

He didn’t want to look at her.

He hated the idea of being as vulnerable as he felt right then in front of anyone. Mags was special, always had been, always would be.

“She said your mother was the best Slayer she ever trained.” she whispered, a little sadly.

Had she read the journal Mags had kept about Iris Abernathy? Probably. _Certainly_. His whole childhood recorded for public consumption.

His mother had been a _hero,_ that much he had _always_ known.

And he barely remembered her. He had been five when she had died. All he had left were hazy memories he wasn’t sure he hadn’t invented.

Mags could have dropped him and his baby brother off to the closest orphanage after her death but she had kept them, she had _raised_ them. She had made him his heir, brought him into the Watcher business, given him a purpose when he had floated adrift… He owed her for that. He _loved_ her for that.

“Allies.” he said in the resulting silence, answering the question she had asked half an hour ago. “For now.”

Not friends.

Not enemies.

_Allies_ , though, he could try. Just in case she was Mags’ latest attempt at watching over him.

It didn’t mean he had to like it and it certainly didn’t mean he had to like _her_ but he could test the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We learned a lot today! What did you think?


	7. Chapter 7

Katniss was staring and Peeta wasn’t sure what he had done wrong to warrant the intensity in her grey eyes. It was almost a glare.

He didn’t confront her until Prim had offered to go with Madge fetch the snacks in the kitchen and they were left alone in the living-room though. The movie night had been planned a little at the last minute but it had all the promise of a good time. Madge hadn’t lied when she had said the Undersees had a big TV screen. It was flat, high definition and it had a home entertainment center.

“No patrol tonight?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice low even though, from what he could tell, the house was huge and the kitchen was far from the living-room. He didn’t want Madge to accidentally overhear and he wasn’t sure how much Prim knew about Katniss’ activities. He knew she had explained everything to her sister but he also supposed _everything_ didn’t include… _everything_.

“Haymitch wanted to talk to Trinket.” Katniss shrugged. She looked a little ill-at-ease, maybe because the house felt so… _wealthy_. It was clearly lived-in, not like one of those expensive homes you didn’t feel comfortable even _sitting_ for fear of breaking something, but the furniture and the devices were expensive. “I’ll do a short sweep on my way home. You can drive Prim back, yeah?”

He was torn between feeling honored she would trust him to get her sister home safely and worried she would be out there on her own. Haymitch usually went with her as back-up, he knew.

“Maybe Gale can drive her back and I can go with you.” he suggested in a cautious tone.  He wasn’t really pleased Gale had been invited but he _could_ be civil. He could learn to share. He _must_ learn to share because she wasn’t his girlfriend and, even if she were, it shouldn’t have to mean she ought to stop being friends with the guy who had had her back for years. Even if that guy was so obviously in love with her it made him worry she would wake up one day and realize she was too.

Her face closed and she turned away from him. “Maybe.”

There was a table so polished it was gleaming under the soft lights of the lamps in a corner, its surface was covered with various framed pictures. She headed there and started picking up one after the other, inspecting them without looking.

If he hadn’t known better he would have thought she was nervous. About Gale’s presence? He knew she missed spending time with him. He knew she was…

“Can I ask you something?”

They said it at the very same time and shared an amused smile that went a long way into diffusing the sudden tension.

“Sure. Go ahead.” he offered, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. He tried not to be too obvious when he checked her out but she didn’t often wear jeans _that_ tight and it was distracting. It was probably a good thing that succubus was dead because under its influence his thoughts would probably have been much, _much_ worse. The red sweater also looked good on her, it reminded him of fire. That was Haymitch’s nickname for her when he wanted to annoy her: _Girl on fire._

She made a face. “Do you like Madge?”

That wasn’t the question he had been expecting. He had thought she would ask about Trinket or something related to Prim or…

“I like Madge.” he answered slowly, with a frown. “As a friend.”

She nervously brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, nodded and then started inspecting the pictures again. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Why do you want to know if I like Madge?” he retorted, still frowning.

“Because it would make everything more complicated.” she muttered. “That’s not what you were going to ask.”

He wasn’t sure what he had been about to ask anymore. He _was_ sure, however, that he would have worded it a lot more diplomatically than how it actually came out. “Do you like Gale?”

She didn’t look up. “He’s my best friend.”

It wasn’t entirely an answer, it was a deflection. He wasn’t sure he wanted to call her out on it though. He wasn’t sure _anything good_ would come out if he brought up the dancing elephant that were his own feelings to her attention.

“Does Madge have a sister?” she suddenly asked, taking a closer look at one of the pictures.

“What? No? I don’t think so…” He joined her in front of the console table and peered at the picture she was holding. He was maybe standing a little too close to her, close enough to smell the particular scent of pine trees that always seemed to cling to her, but if she noticed she didn’t protest.

“They look like twins…” she pointed out.

And she wasn’t wrong.

On the picture, Madge was standing elbow hooped around a girl who was almost identical to her.

“Strange.” he commented.

The doorbell rang just as Prim was coming back into the room her arms loaded with snacks, he heard the rumble of voices, Madge’s laugh and Gale’s lower pitch telling her he had brought strawberries in a slightly embarrassed tone. He waited for Katniss to place the picture down but she didn’t seem to have noticed any of that.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She was so focused on the picture, even Prim shot her an odd look.

“Katniss?” her sister worried.

She didn’t answer, she simply brushed her fingers on the bird pin she was wearing on her sweater. The same bird pin Madge was wearing on the picture.

“I don’t want to be pessimistic but mysterious twins on the hellmouth… It can’t be good.” he whispered to her just as Madge was coming back into the living-room, Gale in tow.

Gale, who didn’t look thrilled to see the two of them standing so close together.

“Sorry.” Peeta told Madge. “We didn’t mean to pry. We just…”

“You have a twin?” Katniss asked with _zero_ tact.

Madge froze for a second and then shook her head. “That’s not me, that’s my aunt. Mom says I look exactly like her…”

Peeta did a double take between her and the picture. Now that he had her in front of him, he could see the differences but they were indeed very small. She could have passed for a perfect copy. He didn’t want to think it was creepy because it was hardly Madge’s fault if she looked so much like her aunt but… it was a little weird. And Katniss’ apparent fascination for the picture was even weirder.

“How did she died?” Katniss enquired. “You said she died but you didn’t say how?”

“Damn, Catnip, light it up a notch?” Gale scowled, reaching to squeeze Madge’s shoulder. “Everyone isn’t as cold about death as you are.” 

The following silence was both tensed and hurt.

“I don’t mind…” Madge winced, after clearing her throat. “She was attacked by a wild animal. She was only eighteen. My mother never really recovered. I wasn’t even born yet.”

A wild animal attack was the police’s favorite way of explaining vampires bites, he had noticed.

“I’m so sorry.” Prim said, reaching out for her hand.

Peeta wanted to offer his sympathies too but Madge was already surrounded by Gale and Prim and moving would have meant leaving Katniss alone on her side of the room. It didn’t seem… _right_.

Katniss slowly placed the picture down.

“I’m not cold about death.” she replied, a bit frosty.

Gale did look a little sorry for having said that but he didn’t apologize and the tension wasn’t going away. Peeta cleared his throat and purposefully strode to the pile of DVDs they had selected earlier. “So, what are we watching first?”

All in all, they had a good time.

He and Gale made an extra effort to be civil because Madge looked nervous to play host. Prim patiently calmed the situation down every time Gale and Katniss started exchanging cutting remarks. Madge kept them so well supplied in snacks Peeta thought his stomach might burst from all the food he had eaten – and those strawberries Gale had brought _were_ good. As for Katniss, she brooded most of the night and made them all shake their heads every time she missed the glaring point in a movie. It amused them all but by the time they all were ready to call it a night, she looked a little frustrated.

Peeta suspected she was secretly glad to be able to go fight a few monsters before bed.

“I don’t understand.” Gale cringed when she asked him to walk Prim back home. “Why aren’t you coming with us?”

Peeta was pretending really hard not to listen to the conversation  even though they weren’t being really discreet. They had left Madge’s house and were walking down the street in the direction of Peeta’s car. Gale and Katniss were walking a few feet in front of Prim and him. He was debating the merit of franchise reboots with a twelve year-old who was far too smart for her age and he _wasn’t_ listening. 

 “I have something to do.” Katniss replied. “Peeta’ll drop me off.”

“He drops you off and then what?” Gale retorted. “You walk back home by yourself in the middle of the night? Forget it. It’s _dangerous_. There’s a serial killer on the loose. Didn’t you hear about the janitor? Who knows who the next victim will be.”

Katniss glanced at him over her shoulder and Peeta flashed her a small encouraging smile while keeping his end of the conversation. Because he was talking with Prim and _not_ listening.

There wouldn’t be any more victims, at least not because of that particular monster and he felt proud to have been a part of that. Even if his contribution had mostly amounted to reading books and carrying an axe.

“Look…” she sighed, sounding deeply aggravated.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Gale cut her off. “Is that it? Are you two going out?”

Prim was watching him with twinkling eyes and a very amused smile. She kept her voice low so the other two wouldn’t hear but the teasing was unmistakable. “ _Are_ you her boyfriend?” 

“No.” he said firmly.

“What? No!” Katniss answered at the same time and, maybe, it would have been nicer if she hadn’t been so emphatic about it.

“How about I drop Gale and Prim at the trailer park and then we go do the… thing?” he suggested, louder, because he had a feeling they would still be standing there in the morning if Gale and Katniss were left to butt heads. “ _And_ …” he added when the other boy opened his mouth. “I will, of course, drive her back home when she’s done with the… thing.”

And they said _Katniss_ was a terrible liar.

Prim shook her head at him but declared that idea was the best and she climbed in the SUV he had just unlocked.

Gale really wasn’t happy with his idea though. “It’s almost midnight. What’s so important that can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Are you coming or not?” Katniss snapped, already climbing on the passenger seat. Peeta was relieved she was claiming shotgun. He wasn’t sure he would have fared well if he had been forced to sit next to Gale for a long fifteen minutes ride given the current tension.

It soon appeared however that Gale wasn’t, in fact, coming. He scowled and stormed away on foot to make a point.

Katniss glared at his retreating back and slammed her door shut to make a point of her own.

The silence, once they were all in the car, was almost suffocating and he was almost relieved when Prim broke it. “Why don’t you tell him the truth?”

“It’s against the rules, Prim. I explained.” Katniss immediately answered, as if she had _just_ been pondering that very question. 

“Yeah, but I know and Peeta knows…” her sister argued. “What’s one more person?”

_What’s one more person?_

The question seemed to echo in the car all the rest of the ride.

He remained in the SUV while Katniss escorted her sister home and checked on their mother. She shot him a curious look when she climbed back up but he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything right up until they were walking between two rows of graves, with the starry sky over their heads and the dead under their feet.

“If you tell Gale…” he started.

“If I tell Gale, Haymitch is going to have my hide.” she grumbled.

He ignored her interruption because they both knew the threat of Haymitch’s anger wasn’t enough to stop her if she wanted to do something.

“Can I still be your sidekick?” he insisted. He tried to make it sound like a joke, as if he was far less insecure about her reluctant friendship than he actually was.

“Why do you ask as if I have to choose?” she retorted angrily. “Why can’t we _all_ be friends?”

He suspected a part of her knew why but he didn’t push. She never reacted well when pushed.

A vampire provided the perfect distraction by crawling out of a freshly dug grave. Katniss dusted him before he was even standing up. She didn’t look entirely pleased by the easiness of the kill.

Peeta buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket and they kept on walking. He had a stake wedged in his belt but he knew he probably wouldn’t need to use it. Not with Katniss there so determined to keep them safe.

“Why were you so fascinated with Madge’s aunt?” he asked, to distract himself from all Gale related thoughts.

It wasn’t all about petty jealousy, about his feelings for her… It felt like he had found a place he could belong with her and Haymitch, an odd family of sort and… Losing _that_? He wasn’t sure he could handle it. And he knew that Gale would take it away from him. Not because the other boy was cruel – how could he even know what Haymitch and Katniss had come to mean to him? – but because Gale was exclusive when it came to Katniss in a way _he_ could learn not to be.

She frowned. “I’m not sure. There was just something _familiar_ about her… Like I knew her. Not just because she looked like Madge, I mean.” She brushed her fingers on the bird pin again and then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,  I guess.”

Three vampires tried to ambush them a few feet away, next to the half-broken statue of a cherub. Katniss jumped in the fray without a second-thought, feet and hands flying, stake plunging down without remorse…

The third one turned to him and Peeta felt a thrill… There was no time to think when the vampire rushed on him, simply react. Being the captain of the wrestling team helped. He knew how to fight. He knew how to fight honorably and he also knew how to fight dirty.

By the time Katniss had dispatched her two vampires, he had the third one pinned under him and he was slamming the stake down.  He looked up at Katniss with a smile, waiting for the man to burst into a cloud of dust… Instead, the vampire sent him flying and stood back up, the stake still sticking out of his chest…

Peeta rolled in the dirt, the air sucked out of his lungs…

“Missed the heart.” the vampire mocked, advancing on him.

Then, he turned into dust for real.

Peeta’s stake fell on the ground and Katniss emerged through the cloud of lingering particles. She held out a hand for him to take.

“I missed the heart a few times too at first.” she said awkwardly, as if to comfort him.

He wasn’t sure if she was trying to make him feel better or if it was true. Either way, he grabbed her hand and let her haul him back to his feet, vowing that he would do better next time. He picked up his stake and they looped around toward his car, following the cemetery’s high stone wall.

“Is Miss Trinket part of the team now?” he asked at some point. He wasn’t sure he had understood the whole Council spy thing. “I mean… Is she staying?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” Katniss made a face. “We don’t need another Watcher.”

They might need a witch, though. But he didn’t say that because Katniss had been very ambivalent about the magic thing. On one hand, she seemed to have liked the bow shooting flaming arrows but on the other hand, the whole thing had freaked her out more than vampires or demons had.

Peeta had thought the whole display to be pretty cool.

“I thought the Council were the good guys…” he insisted.

“I don’t know, Peeta.” she repeated, a little impatiently. “Haymitch doesn’t really trust them, I guess.”

“But he’s part of them, isn’t he?” he pointed out. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“He doesn’t talk about his past much.” She shrugged. “I got the feeling there was bad blood between them.”

Haymitch didn’t simply _not_ talk about his past, he was _closed off_ about it. He would talk about his years of freelance demon hunter in between Slayers sometimes but it was more technical anecdotes than personal recollection.

Katniss seemed to be mulling something over but it was only when they were within reach of the cemetery gates that she spit it out. “I think his mother was a Slayer.”

That stopped Peeta dead in his tracks. “What? Why?”

She awkwardly shrugged again. “Some things he said. A feeling.”

“But you guys are called _young_ …” he argued, his mind railing with the implications. “That means she would have been…”

“Very young when she had him, yeah.” she agreed. “And he had a brother, so… I’m not sure how this works out. Maybe I’m wrong…”

She didn’t think she was wrong though, he could tell.

“That’s… rough.” he commented, after letting the knowledge sink in. “He must still have been a kid when she died…”

The number of people Haymitch had lost in his life though… He hadn’t really given a specified amount but there was at least five Slayers and he always kept insisting death was inevitable… It was no wonder he was bitter.

“I don’t want Trinket to be my Watcher.” Katniss declared firmly, as if it was a serious possibility. Was it? Maybe Haymitch thought so. “I’m keeping Haymitch. If the Council has a problem with that, they can _fuck_ off.”

“I’m with you.” he promised, as if the opposite was even an option. “Team Haymitch.”

Still, the smile she rewarded him with was worth it.

**End of Episode 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of episode 2! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> Episode 3 will start in two weeks ! Don't miss it!

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Hate it? Let me know!


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